


Gravity Rises: Northwest Mansion Showdown [Episode Four]

by BrightnessWings19



Series: Gravity Rises Season Two [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gravity Rises, Episode four, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 02, Sorophora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightnessWings19/pseuds/BrightnessWings19
Summary: Mabel is just trying to recover from her run-in with Bill, but Gideon Northwest needs her help: Ghosts are haunting the Northwest Manor, and it's his job to get rid of them. He hasn't been having much luck, but maybe the help of a fellow ghost hunter will solve his problem. . .





	1. Chapter 1

Gideon stared at the curly grey hair of Mrs. Pleasure and tried not to feel nauseous.

She sat directly in front of him, blocking his view. Northwests didn’t sit in the back, not usually. But they had arrived late, and Blind Lincoln had given them a look that told them to just sit in the back and not draw attention to themselves. Which was completely insulting — especially considering they were late because they didn’t even _know_ about the meeting until the last minute — but Blind Lincoln was the one person Gaston Northwest deferred to. So he and Gideon sat in the back. And now Gideon’s eyes were drawn to people’s heads every time they moved, which annoyed him more than he thought possible.

But that annoyance was the least of his worries. Everything about this meeting gave Gideon a nasty taste in his mouth.

“Miss Pleasure has a remarkable connection with our esteemed lord and will deftly handle any concerns you may need to take up with him,” Blind Lincoln was saying. He stood at the front of the room and addressed the crowd, gesturing to the small figure standing next to him.

Pacifica Pleasure.

She was all dressed up in her show outfit, hair pulled up in her signature style, hands folded and resting on her huge skirt, looking more like herself than Gideon had seen in a long time. On one hand, he was glad to see her looking so happy. She practically glowed with pride. On the other hand, he wasn’t happy at _all_ to learn what he had just learned:

That Pacifica was now the leader of the Order of the Crescent Eye.

Gideon still didn’t completely believe it. What was Blind Lincoln _thinking_? Pacifica had always been unstable, but recently, she’d taken a turn for the worst. And now she was being put in charge of the most important secret society in the world? So Blind Lincoln could go off on vacation?

There was more to it than that, though Gideon didn’t particularly want to admit it to himself. He was jealous. Pacifica was younger than he was — she was younger than everyone in this room. Why didn’t Blind Lincoln put one of them in charge? Why didn’t Blind Lincoln put _Gideon_ in charge?

_Because Bill likes her._

Gideon grimaced. Yes, he knew the answer. All of this was Bill’s order, Bill’s idea, Bill’s insanity. Pacifica was his brand-new puppet, and Bill wanted to play.

“Many of us know, of course, the unique circumstances under which I came into power,” Blind Lincoln continued. Gideon forced himself to pay attention. “But the truth is that leadership of the Order has always been passed down through the Pleasure family line.”

_What?_

“My predecessor and Pacifica’s grandfather, Percy Pleasure, did not find his only son worthy of taking the reins. So he asked me to succeed him.”

This was news to Gideon. He’d never thought about who led the Order before Blind Lincoln. Lincoln seemed like he’d been the leader for. . . forever.

“And while I’m so grateful for Percy’s trust in me, I now rejoice in seeing his descendent once again rise to reclaim her birthright.”

Pacifica beamed at the crowd as everyone applauded politely. Gideon had to peer through the gap between Bud Pleasure and his wife to see her.

That’s when he noticed. They weren’t applauding any louder than anyone else.

Gideon grimaced again. Another reason why he hated this meeting. Bud Pleasure didn’t remember that Pacifica was his daughter. He didn’t even seem to remember that he was the son of Percy Pleasure, considering how he didn’t react to Blind Lincoln’s earlier blatant insult. Pacifica’s parents were very obviously wiped clean of their memory.

And Gideon didn’t do it.

He’d been doing memory wipings for the Order for six years. He was a valued member of the organization. He got in trouble with both his father and Blind Lincoln when he missed memory sessions — which had happened a lot lately. His amulet had been passed down to him from his father, from his father’s father, all the way through the Northwest line. He was _indispensable_.

But somehow Lincoln had done a mind wipe without him. Which meant there was another way to wipe memories. Which meant Gideon _was_ dispensable.

That, coupled with the humiliation of sitting in the back, the annoyance of being unable to see, and the shame of Pacifica ascending higher than he, was just too much for Gideon to bear. This meeting couldn’t be over soon enough.

“Pacifica, would you like to say anything?”

Pacifica smiled up at Lincoln and stepped forward. “I’m honored to be here,” she said, her Showgirl Smile plastered on her face. Gideon hadn’t seen that fake smile in so long. He was surprised to find that he’d missed it. There was even a trace of her old (and also fake) Southern accent in her voice.

“I know I can’t fill Blind Lincoln’s shoes, not yet, but I know these few weeks of practice will be just what I need. I thank you all for your warm welcome and cooperation. I’ve heard of the greatness of the Order, but experiencing it in person is just, well, wonderful.”

She gave the crowd a huge smile and then stepped back as the crowd once again applauded.

Blind Lincoln put a hand up, and the applause ceased. “Does anyone have any concerns about this announcement?”

Gaston Northwest stood up.

Gideon thought he saw Blind Lincoln sigh a little. “Yes, Gaston?”

“When did you say you were leaving?”

“I’m not sure,” Lincoln said. “Likely sometime in the next week.”

“Will you be here for the Northwest Gala?”

Now Gideon suppressed a sigh of his own. Of course that’s what his father was concerned about.

“I don’t believe I will be,” Lincoln replied. “My sincerest apologies. Miss Pleasure is sure to be a wonderful party guest, however.”

Gaston smiled thinly. “Of course.” He sat back down.

Pacifica at the Northwest Gala. That was a strange thought.

Actually, Pacifica involved with the Order at _all_ was a strange thought. The Order. . . the Order was Gideon’s thing. Pacifica never knew about it, not when they were kids, not when she was touring the country, not until her amulet shattered and she went crazy. What did Bill want her for? Why now? Why put her in charge now?

Gideon had a sneaking suspicion, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Blind Lincoln said some final words that Gideon didn’t hear, and the meeting disbanded, bringing with it a hubbub of chatter. Gaston stood up immediately, and Gideon automatically copied him. “Father,” Gideon said quietly, “may we go?”

Gaston looked at his son in alarm. “You want to leave without paying our respects to the new leader? What have I taught you about first impressions?”

“Pacifica and I already know each other.”

“All the more reason to go talk to her. I’m ashamed of you, Gideon. And now we won’t be the first ones up there, thanks to you wasting these crucial seconds.”

Gaston turned and made his way through the crowd. Gideon followed in his wake, trying not to scream and run out of the room. His father didn’t understand — didn’t understand that, sometimes, Gideon was just done. Done with people, done with everything. And right now was one of those times. Every word, every movement, every scraping of chairs on the stone floors, every sound grated on Gideon’s eyes and ears and mind. He couldn’t think. He had to sit down somewhere quiet and think all this out, he had to _get out_.

“Hello, Gideon! I was hoping you’d come and see me!”

It was Pacifica. She had turned from a small band of well-wishers just to smile at him.

“Hi,” Gideon said, trying to force down his unease. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you! I hope you’re not jealous or anything,” she teased.

“Not at all,” Gideon said flatly. “I’d never be put in charge, anyway. Too unpopular with our leader.”

Pacifica seemed to know which leader he was speaking of. “Yes, he doesn’t seem to like you much right now.”

“Miss Pleasure, such a delight.” Gaston cut in front of Gideon and bent down to kiss Pacifica’s hand. “You have the full support of the Northwest family in your endeavors. And Gideon has told me such wonderful things about you.”

Had he? Gideon recalled Gaston basically calling their friendship pointless last time they had discussed her. Look at that, Father. My _friendship_ is going to work for your benefit, now.

The thought just made him feel worse.

“Thank you,” Pacifica said. “What is this Northwest Gala you mentioned?”

“Oh, it’s a wonderful tradition,” Gaston said. “Every year, we have a party to celebrate the Order. It’s secret, of course, but everyone in the Order comes.” He chuckled. “It’s the only time of the year we let in the common folk, if you know what I mean.”

Pacifica laughed politely with him. “I can’t wait.”

Gideon supposed Pacifica didn’t count as “common folk” in Gaston’s eyes now that she was someone to play sycophant for.

After exchanging more pleasantries with Pacifica and then _more_ with Blind Lincoln, Gaston finally decided they could go home. Gideon endured — he always did — but he still had to stop himself from sighing in relief when it was over. Gaston made sure everyone knew they were leaving so they could wish them a respectful goodbye, and then the two Northwests left, walking carefully out of sight before taking the secret passageway that led directly to the Northwest Manor from Order headquarters.

Gaston was silent during most of the walk home, thankfully. Gideon slowly felt better the further away they got from the crowd, but there was no complete relief. Not while Gaston was still walking just ahead of him.

They were almost to the manor when Gaston spoke.

“Did you know the Pleasure girl was the heir to the Order?”

“No.” Gideon paused. “Did you?”

“Of course,” Gaston said. “I worked with Percy Pleasure when I was young. I was about your age when Blind Lincoln took control. It’s a good thing he did, too. Even back then, I could see how terrible a leader Bud would’ve been. Far too cowardly.”

“Wouldn’t Bud have been young as well?” Gideon asked.

“Oh, yes. Percy had a terminal disease. It was a shame. He was a good man.”

They walked in silence for another moment.

“I was thinking you may have befriended Pacifica because you knew she might come into power someday,” Gaston continued. “But I see it’s just a fortunate coincidence.”

Gideon couldn’t think of a respectful response to that, so he just nodded.

They climbed the steps up to the passage entrance and emerged through a tapestry on the third floor of the Northwest Manor. Gaston brushed off his suit, despite the secret passageway being regularly and meticulously cleaned by maids who had their memories wiped afterwards, and started down the hall. “Yes, well, I have important business to get back to.”

Gideon was all too happy to see him go. He turned and walked slowly, ready to bolt to his room as soon as Gaston turned the corner —

“ _Gaston! Gideon! Gaston!_ Oh, thank goodness you’re back!”

Both Northwests turned as someone came running up the nearby stairs. It was Geneva Northwest, Gideon’s mother, wearing a bathrobe and crying through her freshly-applied mascara.

“Geneva!” Gaston exclaimed, running to her. “What are you doing out here in this state?”

She collapsed into his arms. “I was getting ready, when — oh — it’s just _horrible —_ ”

“What? What happened?”

But he couldn’t get an intelligible sentence out of her. Gideon ran over, and the two of them helped Geneva to the nearest chair, where Gaston rubbed her back and kept asking her over and over what happened.

“Gaston — you said it would be okay — you said they’d leave us alone — but they’re back, they’re — ”

“Who’s back?” Gaston was losing his patience; Gideon could hear it. “What happened to you?”

“It’s _them!_ ” Geneva cried. “The _ghosts!_ ”

Gaston and Gideon looked at each other. And, with a mental moan of despair, Gideon knew he wasn’t getting to go to his room for a long time yet.

“I knew we should’ve done this years ago,” Gaston muttered, absently rubbing Geneva’s shoulder as she cried.

He looked up at Gideon with an eye of stone. “Get rid of them. _Now_.”

No. No, no, Gideon couldn’t go do this now, he had to process the news about Pacifica, he needed to sit down or lay down or even take a nap, he couldn’t do this!

“But Father — ” he began.

Then he caught himself. Gaston’s gaze hardened even more, and he reached into his coat pocket, grasped something in his smooth fingers, and started to pull out a long, thin object. . .

“I’m sorry,” Gideon said immediately, his heart pounding. “I’ll go.”

Gaston slid the whistle back into his pocket and nodded firmly. “Get them out permanently this time.”

Gideon’s fear lessened, but his heart still beat fast — now with anger. It wasn’t fair. He’d tried his best to banish the ghosts; it had never worked! And couldn’t he just have a minute to relax after the Order meeting?

But he didn’t say any of that. He simply turned away, trying hard to keep his body relaxed, even though what he really wanted to do was curl his hands into fists and punch the wall. He took a deep, silent breath.

And he went to deal with the ghosts. 


	2. Chapter 2

Mabel Pines slept.

At first, it was a deep, solid sleep that started Saturday afternoon and ended late Sunday morning. A sleep that lasted eighteen hours. A sleep that was stopped only by a sudden and intense need to use the bathroom.

Mabel sat up on the couch, disoriented, wondering vaguely what time it was but infinitely more concerned with relieving herself. No one was around. She stood, waited a moment for the vertigo to pass, and staggered to the bathroom. Everything was fine until she was washing her hands, when she looked up, bleary-eyed, at the mirror.

And saw glowing yellow eyes looking back at her.

Mabel cried out and stumbled back, hitting her head against the wall and collapsing to the ground with a _thud_. She sat there, shaking, her hands dripping on the vinyl floor. She just sat there as the water from the tap ran and ran and ran.

She didn’t know how long she trembled there on the cold bathroom floor. She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset. Everything was fuzzy, everything was frightening, the world seemed so. . . strange. . .

“Mabel! _Mabel!_ ”

Someone was pounding on the door. Mabel started, sitting up straight and staring at the door, breathing heavily in the fear that comes from being unable to think clearly. The door rattled as someone jiggled the lock with one hand and pounded on it with the other.

Then the door swung open, and Mabel’s twin brother Dipper burst inside.

“Mabel! Mabel, what happened?”

He turned off the tap and knelt down by her side, staring at her in the echoing silence.

“I was just using the bathroom,” Mabel said. But her voice was hoarse, and her speech was thick, and —

And she suddenly realized just how much pain she was in, all over her body.

Dipper helped her get shakily to her feet. She tried to hold up her own weight as best she could, but it was hard. Her legs didn’t seem to work right. She glanced at the bathroom mirror — not wanting to, but unable to stop herself — to find her eyes were the normal brown. She was just imagining things.

But then why did she still feel so afraid?

Mabel didn’t get up off the couch much after that.

Melody Ramirez brought her food and, at her request, accompanied her to the bathroom. Robbie Corduroy came in to talk to her when she was awake. Dipper almost never left her side.

Stanford Pines was nowhere to be seen.

Or maybe he only came out when she was asleep — which was most of the time. Mabel’s sleep faded in and out, deep and shallow, dreamless and filled with dreams.

The dreams. Sometimes they were only flashes of things: a yellow glow — a laptop screen — bright stage lights illuminating fuzzy figures dancing beneath. Other times, they were full reviews of her week of nightmares: staying up all night trying password after password and hearing _BZZT!_ after _BZZT!_ until she cried out for it to stop, but it never stopped, it just went on and on and on — standing in a dark room and jumping every time the shadows moved, fearing something that never showed its face — trying desperately to communicate with her brother, her uncle, _anyone_ , waving her arms and shouting and crying but never getting their attention, never being able to touch them, never being anything but a ghost. . .

She always woke up from those dreams crying. She always woke up from those dreams in Dipper’s arms, as he tried to calm her down and soothe her and tell her it was okay.

She tried to forget. But the dreams reminded her. They reminded her that there was no forgetting.

There was no forgetting the terror of being possessed by Bill Cipher.

Even thinking his name made her heart thump in her ears. She wished she didn’t know it. She wished she’d never met him. She wished she’d never thought, for even a _second_ , that shaking his hand was a good idea.

But the wishing did nothing, and all she could do was cry in Dipper’s arms.

After so many days, Mabel got sick of being confined to the couch, where all she could do was cry or think or sleep — she’d tried to sketch, but she’d found herself doodling Cipher eyes everywhere, and it had terrified her so much that she hadn’t picked up her sketchbook since. She complained to Dipper of her boredom, and Dipper convinced Melody to begrudgingly let Mabel hang out in the Mystery Museum gift shop, where Robbie sold trinkets to sluggish tourists.

“Hey, Mabel-kid, you’re up!” Robbie called, waving at her. She waved back with a small smile and joined him at the checkout counter, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.

“You feeling better?” he asked.

“A little. I just didn’t want to lie on the couch anymore.” She was still bruised and battered — Bill had taken a sick pleasure in hurting Mabel’s body while he was in it — but the soreness was just a dull background pain at this point. She mostly ignored it.

Dipper jumped onto the checkout counter and swung his heels into the wood. “How’s business?”

Robbie shrugged. “Slow.”

The three of them chatted idly for a while, until Mabel asked, “So are you two still helping with the set?”

Dipper and Robbie’s faces both fell.

“Yeah,” Robbie said, “but there’s more damage than we originally thought. It’s gonna take a while to fix. The show is probably going to have to be cancelled. And — ” His eyes flicked to Dipper.

Dipper grimaced. “Mabes, I wasn’t going to tell you, since you already have enough to deal with. . .”

“Tell me what?” Mabel asked, immediately on guard.

“Well. . . they fired me from the spotlighting. Anybody could have seen that coming. Although I don’t know if it counts as ‘firing,’ since they weren’t paying me in the first place. Either way, once I help finish with the set, I’m basically banned from the theater for life. You too.”

“Oh, Dipper,” Mabel said. She knew how much Dipper loved watching and listening to musicals. They both enjoyed it, but Dipper especially had been excited to help out with the local production of _The Spectre of the Theatre._ It had been going great — until Bill-Mabel, or Babel, had destroyed the set while trying to get to the Journal. The director, William Bartosic, hadn’t known about the possession. To him, two punk kids had smashed into his stage on a chandelier and fought until everything was in ruins. It was no wonder Mabel and Dipper were banned now, but Mabel knew it must be hard on Dipper to be banned from anything.

“There’s more,” Dipper said hesitantly. “We. . . we also owe the theater for the damages.”

Silence.

“How much?” Mabel whispered.

“Um, a lot,” Dipper said. “I’m sure Ford will be able to handle it, though, right, Robbie?”

Robbie wouldn’t meet either of their gazes, and suddenly Mabel was aware of how rundown and shabby the gift shop looked. Maybe Ford wasn’t as successful as they’d thought.

“Maybe we can hold a lemonade stand or something,” Dipper tried.

“It’s the middle of winter.”

“A hot chocolate stand, then.”

Mabel buried her head in her hands, guilt searing through her. She’d ruined everything — the actors’ chance to put on a show they’d worked hard on, Dipper’s chance to be a part of something fun, Ford’s chance to have enough money to stay afloat. Everything came crashing down when Babel sent that chandelier into the stage.

“Oh, Mabes,” Dipper said, “it’s not your fault.”

She didn’t respond. She knew it was.

The bell above the gift shop door jingled faintly. “Hiya, Dipper!”

Mabel didn’t have to look up to know who it was: Candy and Greyson, Dipper’s best friends here in Gravity Rises.

“Hey, guys! Come to buy anything?”

Greyson laughed. “Of course not, we came to see you. Oh, hi, Mabel.”

Mabel looked up and forced a smile.

Candy frowned. “Those are some big bruises you got there,” she said, her eyes tracing Mabel’s bare arms. “Dipper said you were in an accident. What happened?”

 _Accident_. What a stupidly underwhelming word. Nothing that happened last week had been an _accident_.

“Um,” she said to Candy, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Candy shrugged and turned to Dipper. “Well, now that Mabel is up, can you come hang out with us?”

“Um, not yet,” Dipper said. “But you’re welcome to stay here, if you want.”

Mabel blinked. Had he been turning them down just so he could stay by her side?

“But it’s _boring_ in here, Dip,” Candy moaned, leaning against the checkout counter.

“I don’t mind,” Greyson said. “Nothing’s boring with Dipper around.”

Dipper grinned. “Thanks, Greyson!”

A tourist started wandering over the checkout counter. “Hey, guys, off,” Robbie said, shooing the tweens away. Dipper jumped off the counter, and he, Candy, and Greyson all scattered like startled birds to make room for the customer. Mabel grabbed Dipper’s arm as he passed.

“Dip, have you been with me all the time since Saturday?” she asked softly.

He looked at her and tilted his head a bit. “Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Mabel felt tears misting in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she swallowed. “But, I know how much you like to go hang out with people. You can go if you want to. Y’know, hang out with Candy and Greyson, email Amanda, maybe try to talk to Gabby again.”

Dipper’s face darkened.

“O-oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned Gabby,” Mabel hurried to say.

“No,” Dipper said, “it’s not her. Though she told me it’s better if we don’t talk again, which I get. No, it’s. . . it’s Amanda.” He cast a furtive glance over to Candy, who was looking at the vending machine options with Greyson. “She hasn’t been emailing me back.”

First Gabby rejecting him, then his debt to the theater, and now this? Mabel’s heart filled with love for her brother as she wondered how he spent so much time looking after her when all of this was happening to him.

“Oh,” she said. “I-I’m sorry. Do you know why?”

“No,” he said sadly. “But she wouldn’t just ignore me, right?”

“Of course not.” At least, she wouldn’t if she cared about him at all. And Mabel was pretty sure Amanda cared about Dipper.

Dipper seemed to take some consolation in this, but his expression was still dampened, and Mabel felt bad for bringing it up.

“Have a nice day!” Robbie waved good-bye the customer, then turned to the twins. “Woah, Dip-kid, why so down?”

Candy and Greyson were returning with snacks in hand. Dipper looked between them and Robbie. “A friend of mine isn’t responding to my emails, is all.”

Robbie shot Dipper a disbelieving look. “You know why, don’t you?”

“No,” Dipper said in surprise. “Do you?”

“You been living under a rock? The communications interruption is all people have been talking about for like a week. When’s the last time you emailed this person?”

“About a week ago,” Dipper said, his eyes slowly lighting up. “You mean something is up with my emails? She’s not just ignoring me?”

“Nah, nobody’s Wi-Fi has been working since around when you and I got hired for Spectre. Phones, too. It says it sends things, but they never go through. Super obnoxious.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of that,” Greyson said nervously, “I need to get back home soon to check in with my mom, since my phone isn’t working. She’ll be mad if I’m not on time. Maybe you can come hang out with Candy and me there, Dipper?”

Dipper glanced to Mabel. “Go ahead,” she said, even though she didn’t really want to. But he deserved it. Who was she to make things even worse for him?

“I dunno,” he said. “Robbie, can you stay with Mabel?”

Robbie grimaced. “No, I’m going out with my friends tonight. They should be here any minute, actually. I don’t know what we’re doing or how long we’ll be, though, since the group text isn’t working. Maybe you could come along, Mabel?”

She looked at him in alarm. “N-no thank you,” she said, her words tripping over each other in their rush to escape her mouth. Last time she’d hung out with Robbie’s friends had been the first time she’d met Bill, and she didn’t need any more reminders of that. Plus, right now, being social sounded even more terrifying than usual.

Dipper had his hand to his mouth, thinking it over. “It’s fine,” Mabel blurted, “I’m fine here. Melody here, a-and I’m getting kinda tired, anyway. O-or maybe Ford can come out and be with me.”

Robbie laughed derisively. “Yeah, right. Nobody has seen him since we brought you home.”

Yet more pain Mabel’s deal with Bill had caused. Her eyes traced the patterns in the floor. “Right.” Ford hadn’t taken the news about Bill well. Mabel didn’t remember much about what happened when she came home after her possession, but she did remember Ford’s stricken face as he asked, “He’s back?”

 _Back_.

“Mabel?” Candy asked.

Mabel looked up. She’d been breathing heavily and staring at the floor with wide eyes as the full realization of what Ford said hit her. “U-um, sorry, um, you guys go and have fun. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked.

“Y-yeah,” she answered distractedly. _Back. Back._ Ford knew Bill. Well — of course he knew Bill! He’d written about Bill in the Journal, he’d known how to heal Mabel after her possession — but — but — he _knew Bill._

And suddenly she felt an overwhelming need to talk to him.

She forced a smile at Dipper. “Really, Dipper, I’m sure. I’m. . . I’m gonna go find Grunkle Ford.”

She hurried from the gift shop, limping slightly and ignoring the dull ache of movement.

“Mabel, is everything all right?”

It was Melody, halfway out of the kitchen, holding a plate of food. “I made you some dinner.”

Mabel swallowed. “Thanks, Melody. Um, can I go see Grunkle Ford? Or can you ask him to come see me?”

Melody grimaced, then sighed. “He won’t let anyone see him, Mabes. I’ve been leaving food outside his study, but he won’t come out no matter what I say — or threaten. He claims he’s doing research on the locations of the other two Journals.”

Her tone of voice said that wasn’t what she thought he was doing at all.

Mabel sat down on the couch and sighed, putting her chin in her hands. “I was hoping I could talk to him about. . . about what happened.”

She heard the _clink_ of Melody putting the plate down and felt the couch shift as she sat down next to Mabel on the couch. “Mabel,” Melody said softly, “you don’t have to answer, but. . . what _did_ happen?”

Mabel would rather be talking to Ford about this, but she guessed Melody would have to do. She looked sideways at her. “You believe in all this supernatural stuff, right?”

Melody smiled wryly back. “I _did_ help rescue a selkie, fight a girl with powers, and, of course, pack your lunches while you went to go fight a shapeshifter. Pretty sure I do.”

Mabel turned pink. “Right. Um. Well. . . you heard about. . . Bill, on Saturday, right?”

“Bill Cipher,” Melody said, trying the name out on her tongue. Mabel shuddered at the sound of it.

“Right. He’s. . . he’s a demon. Ford knows him, but I don’t know what happened between them. Dipper and I fought him, the night Pacifica stole the Museum. He was invading Robbie’s mind, trying to get information. We drove him out, but. . .”

Melody said nothing, just waited patiently for Mabel to talk.

“He came back. And he. . . possessed me.”

The words left an ugly silence, and suddenly Mabel couldn’t talk fast enough to fill it.0

“And you were right, you were right, I shouldn’t have worked on the laptop, I should’ve just waited until Ford was better and he could do it, but I thought I could do it and I thought I could help so I took it and I worked on it at the theater while Dipper rehearsed and I worked on it through the night and I didn’t sleep and when Bill got to me I was so tired and so panicked and I just — I fell for it, and I shook his hand, and he — he — he ripped my soul — right out of my body.”

These words were even uglier than the last, and hearing them said out loud made Mabel tremble all over for fear of the memory. The sensation of being possessed had been worse than all the pain that had been waiting for her when she got her body back. The feeling of being torn apart. . . the inability to touch anything, talk with anyone, be anything. . .

Melody put an arm around her, still saying nothing.

“And then he ruined everything,” Mabel said in a hollow voice. “The laptop, the theater, _me_. And now — ” She looked up at Melody hopelessly. “Now we have to find the other two Journals. They’re our only hope to save Stanley with the laptop gone. And if we don’t find them. . .”

Melody hugged Mabel tight. “We will,” she promised, stroking Mabel’s hair. “We will.”

Mabel rested her head on Melody’s chest and breathed deeply. “Um, Melody. . . we also have to pay for all the damage done to the theater.”

Melody’s hand paused on Mabel’s head. “Oh,” she said quietly.

Mabel braced herself for Melody to pull away, to look at her with this disappointed, even angry look. But Melody only held her tighter.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “Don’t worry about it, alright? All you need to do is rest and feel better.”

She pulled back and smiled at her.

Mabel didn’t know if she felt better or worse, but Melody was right about one thing: she still needed rest. Getting off the couch and into the gift shop had been nice, but apparently she still couldn’t handle it for long.

Rest. . . Mabel was feeling pretty tired again. She’d been off the couch for less than an hour, but apparently that was all she could handle right now.

She ate the dinner Melody made her slowly. She was ravenous, but eating too fast made her feel sick. Once Melody was satisfied that she’d eaten enough, she took Mabel’s plate and helped her arrange the pillows until she was comfortable.

Then Mabel lay back and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn’t come. Or maybe it did, but it didn’t feel like it. It just felt like thinking.

She wished she could talk to Ford and ask him more about his history with Bill. She wished her body didn’t ache all over. She wished she could stop thinking about Bill, about how whenever she dropped off to sleep it felt like being a ghost all over again —

She drifted through her restless thoughts for a while before she finally fell into a deeper sleep. The feeling of being a ghost fell away —

As did the feeling of everything else.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Mabel opened her eyes, Dipper was by her side.

Morning sunlight streamed weakly through the diamond-shaped window on the front door, throwing sparkly spots onto the wall. Mabel squinted. She felt drowsy, fuzzy, like it should still be night and dark outside.

“Morning, Mabes!”

Mabel blinked as she looked at Dipper, still not used to the light. “Morning, I guess. Why is the sun so bright?”

He laughed. “So I can see you, of course.”

Mabel let out a laugh of her own, but it was far less cheerful than Dipper’s. “I’m not much to look at right now.”

“Yes you are!” Dipper sat on the edge of the couch. “Any day you have brown eyes is a good day to look at you.”

Mabel gave him a small smile, but it faded quickly. “I — I haven’t — I mean — I’ve had brown eyes since — ”

“Yes,” Dipper said firmly, taking her hand. His was colder than hers, but she didn’t mind. “You’ve had brown eyes since Saturday.”

Mabel settled her head back onto her pillow and looked up at the ceiling in silence.

She’d had more dreams last night, but she didn’t remember much of them. Just blue fire. . . blue fire, and Bill’s laughter. . . 

“Dipper. . . ,” Mabel whispered, “why did I let it happen?”

Dipper’s grip on her hand slackened a bit. “Because you weren’t thinking clearly,” he said softly. “Because you made a mistake. Because like Ford said, Bill can get to even the best of us.”

Mabel laughed bitterly. “Well, I’m definitely not the best of us, so I guess that makes sense.”

“What?” Dipper asked immediately, sounding shocked. “Why would you say that?”

She glanced down her nose at him without raising her head. “Because it’s true.”

There was a beat of silence. “Mabes, I know you think you’re weak — “

“I am.”

“ — but you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!” She sat up, pulling her hand out of Dipper’s and bracing herself with her elbow. “You don’t know! You haven’t been there! I know you’re just trying to be nice to me because of what happened Saturday — ”

“Of course I’m not,” Dipper said, sounding hurt. “Aren’t I usually nice to you?”

She fell quiet for a moment. “Well, yeah, but you’re obviously trying hard now. And I appreciate it — ”

“Maybe losing my sister made me realize how much I love her, have you thought of that?” Dipper shot back.

Now she was quiet for longer than a moment as all sorts of emotions and memories rushed through her.

Dipper reached for her hand. She pulled it back.

“I lost you, too,” she said.

“I know.”

“ _No_ ,” she said. “I lost you, too, and you know what I did?”

“You tried to save me. But then Ford and. . . “ Dipper trailed off.

“Gideon,” Mabel finished firmly.

“They sabotaged you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my fault for trusting them. And you know who else I almost trusted? You know what I did?”

Dipper watched her with a strange expression on her face.

“I almost made a deal with Bill, that’s what!”

Now Dipper looked confused. “When I was kidnapped?”

“He showed up after Gideon left and told me he’d help me rescue you. Well, Ford said that, and Gideon said that, and I trusted them, and they betrayed me, and yet I was ready to trust _Bill_ , too, to save you — I was so _stupid_ — “

“But you didn’t make a deal with him,” Dipper cut in. “You didn’t fall for it.”

“I _did!_ ” Mabel shouted. “I was about to shake his hand! But he pulled out at the last second, I don’t know why, I think because Ford showed up right after.” She paused. “I wonder what happened between them.” Then she scowled. “Of course, Ford probably won’t tell us. Anyway. I’ve fallen for Bill’s tricks _twice,_ Dipper. Only dumb luck saved me that time. Luck and other people, that’s all it is.”

“Whatever!” Dipper said.

“Oh yeah?” She sat up straighter, desperate to prove her point. “You and Ford saved me from the ghost. I didn’t help fight the shapeshifter at _all_. You saved _yourself_ from Pacifica, even after everything — ”

“You did so help fight the shapeshifter! You shot off its tongue!”

“Like that did anything to help. And then, after all that, Gideon Northwest has saved me at _least_ four times — “

“Four?” Dipper said incredulously. “Yeah right!”

“The time with the clones, the first time with Pacifica — “

“He saved Pacifica, not us!”

“ — the second time with Pacifica — “

“Mabel!” Dipper grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you even hear yourself? He didn’t save you at all! He _betrayed_ you that time!”

“ — and down in the bunker,” Mabel finished quietly, staring at a spot in the distance just over Dipper’s ear.

He released her shoulders and sat back. “That’s right,” he said. “You said something about hallucinating him down in the bunker.”

“I didn’t hallucinate him,” Mabel said grimly. “He was down there. Dunno how he did it, but he was. He saved me from Shifty before you all showed up. And he almost stole the Journal again. . . but he didn’t.”

Dipper frowned. “Did he actually save you, or — ?”

Mabel sighed in exasperation. “Yes, he did. He used his amulet to get Shifty off me when he was attacking me.”

Dipper looked away, then back at her. “Listen. Mabes. It doesn’t matter what’s happened. Everyone needs to be saved sometimes. But you _are_ brave, and you’re not a bad person or anything just because you got tricked.”

“But — ”

“ _And_ ,” he said over her, “you should stop thinking about Gideon.”

“Gideon agrees that I’m weak.”

Dipper folded his arms. “Yeah, well, Gideon Northwest is the worst. And that’s not just jealousy talking. I’d say that to his _face_.”

He said it in a serious tone, but with a joking edge to it, and it somehow made Mabel laugh. How did he _do_ that?

“Well, fine,” Mabel said. “Gideon Northwest _is_ the worst.”

“Darn right he is. Which is why you shouldn’t listen to him.”

“Morning, guys!” Hinges squeaked as Robbie Corduroy popped his head in through the door to the gift shop. “Dip, you wanna help me get the shop ready for the day? Feeling okay, Mabel?”

“Yeah,” Mabel said. What else was she supposed to say?

Dipper hopped up from the couch. “If I go help Robbie, will you promise to only think positive thoughts in here?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Sure, I’ll try.” It wouldn’t work, though. Did he think she could just turn positive thoughts on like a lightbulb?

“Try,” Dipper said. He reached for her hand again, and she didn’t pull away this time, but she also didn’t wrap her fingers around his. “I’ll be back soon,” he said. “Are you hungry? If I see Melody I’ll tell her.”

She said all the things she was supposed to say until both Robbie and Dipper had left the room. Then she lay back on the couch with a big sigh.

She was exhausted. Not physically so much, that was getting better — but exhausted from nobody listening to her, nobody seeing her as she really was. She knew Dipper was just trying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t exactly working.

She sighed again. She was so done with being upset about everything, even her brother being nice to her. Her emotions made no sense. Weary numbness settled around her mind as thoughts raced around and around in her head, always moving, but touching her consciousness less and less, until she was barely aware of time passing, barely aware of what she was thinking at all.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Mabel shot up, her mind snapping into the present and her pulse snapping into hyperspeed. Anger flared through her at whoever thought it was okay to make such a loud, sudden noise. She glared at the door for a minute before she realized that no one was coming to open it.

“Melody?” she called. “Dipper?”

But Melody must have been running a tour, because no one came to her aid. Mabel would have to get off the couch and answer the door.

Or she could just not.

She lay there for a minute, debating, until the door shuddered again with another knock.

“Fine, I’m coming!” she muttered, planting her feet onto the floor and standing up. Why did she have to answer the door? She hated answering the door. But no one else was here and obviously the person wasn’t going to go away. She grabbed her headband off the side table, pushing her tangled hair out of her face with it, and straightened out the clothes she’d slept in so she at least looked somewhat decent.

Then she crossed the room, put her hand on the knob, sighed out her annoyance, and told herself to be nice to whatever townsperson was on the doorstep.

Mabel pulled open the door and came face to face with Gideon Northwest.

"I need your help," he said.

'You're the worst." Mabel replied, slamming the door in his face.

It wasn’t until the door banged shut that Mabel realized what she’d done. Her eyes widened, and she leaned against the door, fighting to breathe. _Gideon Northwest_ was on her doorstep, and she’d just — she’d just said the first thing that had popped into her head — Dipper had said Gideon was the worst — and — well — he was _right_ —

Gideon knocked on the door again, startling Mabel away from it.

He was still there. What could she do? Why was he here? _Why_ had she decided to answer the door?

“Mabel, I can hear you breathing.”

His voice was muffled, but it carried through the wooden door. Mabel flushed.

“I need your help,” Gideon repeated.

“Go away!” Mabel shouted back.

There was a silence. Wait, was he actually leaving? Wait —

“I’ll pay you,” Gideon said.

Mabel flushed again, this time with anger. How _dare_ he try to _bribe_ her — who did he _think_ he —

But then she remembered the theater.

The theater was charging her and Dipper for damages. Charges they couldn’t pay, charges Melody and Ford couldn’t pay. And it was Mabel’s fault that the theater was ruined in the first place. It wasn’t fair to anyone else to ask them for the money. But if Gideon Northwest was just going to show up and offer her money. . .

Hating herself, Mabel cracked open the door.

“Hello,” Gideon said.

She almost slammed the door again as soon as she caught sight of his face. What was she _doing?_

“Just hear me out,” he said, looking her in the one eye he could see through the small opening.

Mabel slowly eased the door open wider, looking Gideon square in the face and trying not to shiver in the cold winter air. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. “What’s with the dumb sunglasses?”

The question didn’t seem to faze him in the least. “The sun is bright.”

Well, at least they agreed on that. Mabel was having a hard time keeping her eyes open in the sun’s reflection on the snow. “Are you sure you’re not in disguise in case someone sees you talking to us peasants?”

She imagined him rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses, though she had no way to know. “Would you like to hear my offer?”

She did, she really did. She had to know what was so important that Gideon came here asking for _her_ help. But she had to keep it cool. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow from behind the sunglasses. “The uninterested act doesn’t suit you, Pines.”

Mabel glared at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s your thing.”

“Yeah, it is.” He sighed and took off his sunglasses, sticking them in his pocket, revealing his hazel-grey eyes. “You’re good with ghosts, right?”

Mabel blinked. “Um, yeah, I am. Why, do you have a haunting or something?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

“And you can’t just get rid of them yourself? You need _my_ help?”

Gideon scowled. “I doubt you’ll have a miraculous solution for me. I know what I’m doing. But my efforts haven’t been working, and I thought maybe you could at least bring a new perspective.”

Mabel had no idea what to make of this. So she played defensive and folded her arms. “If you really needed my help, you should at least ask nicely.”

“I _don’t_ need your help, I — ” Gideon stopped, closed his eyes, breathed in and out. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should ask nicely.” He took another breath and looked her in the eyes. “Mabel, in return for whatever reasonable sum of money you wish, would you please assist me with ridding the Northwest Manor of ghosts?”

Something about this made Mabel very uncomfortable — well, everything about this made her uncomfortable, but there was a specific thing she couldn’t put her finger on.

Gideon looked chagrined at her hesitation. “I’m sorry, is this too forward?”

Realization hit her like a train wreck. “Is this — ” she choked out in a strangled voice. “Are you asking me on a _date_?”

Gideon’s entire body went stiff, his eyes wide, his fingers curled. “What — no — absolutely not! I simply heard you were good with ghosts and thought maybe you were willing to — hire your services — no, this is absolutely _not_ a — you know, never mind, I shouldn’t have — ”

“No, I — I actually do need to, um, hire my services,” Mabel said carefully. “There was an accident, and we’re sort of being sued for, um, damages done to, um, a building. If I helped you, could you cover that?”

Gideon relaxed. “How much?”

“I don’t know. A lot?”

“I’m sure I can cover it,” Gideon said.

“Even if I can’t help you with the ghosts? What if nothing works?”

“I’d still pay you,” he promised. “I won’t be surprised if it doesn’t work. But I think you can raise our chances.”

Mabel tried not to react to the compliment, if that’s what it was. Something about this was wrong, some other reason she shouldn’t agree to help Gideon. He was a wild card, unpredictable. The last time she’d seen him, he’d acted strangely, acted in a way Mabel had never seen from him before. He’d. . .

And it hit her.

She stood up straighter, buoyed by a sudden rush of anger. Of course. Of course he was just conning her, just trying to win her trust before —

Mabel brought as much ice into her voice as she could manage. “If this is a ploy to steal the Journal, it’s not going to work.”

Gideon scoffed. “Trust me, Pines, if I wanted your Journal, I’d have it by now.”

Mabel’s eyes went wide, then cold. She snatched the door handle and slammed the door in Gideon’s face.

“Wait, Mabel!” he called. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!”

Mabel didn’t open the door, just stood there, staring at it, her breath caught in her throat, as Gideon knocked again.

“Come on, Pines. I promise I’m not after your Journal.”

He kept knocking on the door, but Mabel was frozen.

“Didn’t I give it back to you last time?” Gideon called.

He did. . . he could’ve taken it, but he’d given it back to her. . . he’d. . .

Mabel’s hand tingled.

“Mabel, I’m sorry.”

She steeled herself, put a hand on the knob, and flung the door open as fast as she could, hoping to startle Gideon and catch him off guard. His eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t jump back.

“What were you doing down in the bunker?” Mabel demanded.

He stiffened again, but not as badly as last time. “I. . . I was looking for the first Journal. Just like you.”

“You told me you were betraying someone. Who?”

Gideon blinked. “The shapeshifter, of course. Is this an interrogation, or are you going to agree to help me?”

She regarded him with suspicion. “I’m not bringing the Journal.”

“You don’t have to.”

“And I’m only doing it for the money.” She winced at how shallow that sounded. “But just because I need it to help fix the — ”

“I understand.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Mabel guarded and suspicious, Gideon calm and inscrutable.

“Fine,” Mabel said.

Gideon relaxed slightly. “Thank you. Tomorrow from eight to noon is the best time. Will that work?” His tone said he was asking to be polite, but that it was really her only option.

“Y-yeah, sure, I guess.” Should be enough time to prepare — emotionally as well as in research. Speaking of research. . . “What’s going on? With the haunting.”

Gideon sighed. “It’s a long-term haunting, but we had a sort of truce with the ghosts. Until a few days ago, when they attacked my mother while she was getting ready in the bathroom. She told us the lights flickered and the ghosts wrote threats out on the mirrors. I believe they also have some telekinesis abilities.”

“Basic haunting stuff,” Mabel said. “But you haven’t been able to get rid of them?”

“I’ve performed quite a lot of exorcisms and expulsions. I know how to work with ghosts. But no.”

Mabel bit her lip in thought. “Okay. I’ll look into it.”

Gideon nodded. “Good. Well. Thank you, Mabel. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Be outside the gates at eight A.M.”

He turned and walked smoothly down the porch steps.

Mabel’s mouth opened and shut and then opened again. A word bubbled in the back of her throat, then died. She didn’t actually know what she wanted to say. So instead she just stood there, the freezing winter air pulling bumps up from the skin on her arms as she watched Gideon walk away from her. He didn’t look back, just took even steps through the snow until he reached the tree line and disappeared behind the pine needles.

“Mabel?”

She whirled around.

“What just happened?” Dipper asked.

Mabel took one more look over her shoulder — Gideon was nowhere to be seen — before closing the door behind her.

“Um,” she said to her brother, “I don’t actually know.”

She walked back to the couch and sat down firmly on it, partly wishing she had never stood up in the first place. Partly wondering why she’d dare go work with ghosts when she had so recently been one.

And partly far more excited than she wanted to admit.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Gideon dreamt of Mabel.

They were in the forest together. Sunlight streamed through the trees, bouncing off the snow in glittering majesty. The only thing that sparkled more than the snow was Mabel’s eyes.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Come see.”

She wanted to show him something. Gideon doubted there was anything in the forest he hadn’t seen, but he decided to humor her. He followed her through the woods, their feet gliding atop the snow as if they were floating.

“It’s just up here,” Mabel said. “I can’t wait for you to see!”

They turned a corner.

Suddenly the light was gone — snuffed out, save for the tiny flickering flames of lamps. The trees were replaced with brick walls, the snow with stone. On the other side of the suddenly-enclosed room stood hooded figures, just barely visible in the lamplight.

“See?” Mabel said happily. She spread her hands out as if presenting the room for Gideon to see.

“Mabel,” Gideon said, panic starting to creep into his bones, “we have to get out of here.”

“Why?” she asked. “I bet there are ghosts. Don’t you want to go exploring?”

“Not — not right now.” He looked warily at the hooded figures.

They took a step forward.

“Run,” Gideon said.

“We can’t,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. “There’s no exit.”

The hooded figures took another step. They moved as one body, perfectly in sync.

“Why did you bring her here?” A booming voice swept over the room.

“I — I didn’t,” Gideon said. “Please — I didn’t mean to — don’t hurt — ”

The hooded figures rushed forward.

Gideon cried out and tried to activate his amulet — but it wasn’t there. He threw his arms around Mabel, trying to protect her, but there were too many attackers. They shoved Gideon off her, grabbed her, forced her away from him —

“Gideon? Gideon! What’s happening!” Only now did Mabel seem to realize the danger.

“Mabel!” Gideon ran for her, but was shoved to the ground by a robed attacker. An Order member.

“Gideon, help!”

The Order of the Crescent Eye held Mabel up above them, raising her towards the ceiling as she struggled against them. Then her eyes locked onto something on the ceiling and glazed over. She went slack in the Order members’ arms.

The ceiling cast a yellow glow onto her.

“ _NO!_ ” Gideon struggled against his captors, struggled towards Mabel — he never should’ve followed her, never should’ve let her get involved — “ _NO!_ ”

But it was like moving through molasses — the strong arms around him held him back — someone stepped forward, engulfed in a purple robe, with blacks shadows where a face would be — and something glittering in their hand, glittering like the snow — shining and silver — they raised it up above Mabel’s limp form —

Gideon shot upright in bed just as the last red remnants of his dream splattered across his vision.

He gasped for breath as sweat trickled down his nose. The memory of the dream was already fading, the details blurring, but he still clearly remembered the horror, the fear.

Slowly, his heart rate settled. He took a gulp of water from a glass on his nightstand — stale. But it helped get some moisture back into his throat.

Nightmares. He’d been having nightmares ever since Pacifica was announced as Lincoln’s apprentice — ever since the ghosts had reappeared — ever since he’d had the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could ask Mabel Pines for help. . .

Mabel. The dream had been about Mabel. Something. . . something bad had happened, something that woke him up in a cold sweat.

He sighed and set his water glass back down, mopping the sweat from his forehead. As he moved his arm back, he caught sight of the clock on the wall.

7:32.

Gideon’s eyes widened. He threw his covers back and stood up, shaking off the dizzy feeling. Mabel would be here in _half an hour_ and he was still in his pajamas!

He stopped. Mabel. . .

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

As he thought it, an image from his dream returned to him. A yellow glow, illuminating Mabel’s expressionless face. . .

Gideon grit his teeth as anger swept through him. Of course. He knew what these dreams were.

They were threats.

Somehow this realization only increased Gideon’s determination to go through with this. Bill didn’t control him. Bill could stick his threats up his triangular —

A knock on his door. Gideon unclenched his fists, which he hadn’t realized he’d tightened. That’d be the butler with his breakfast.

“Come in,” he said, sitting back on the bed. He’d eat, get ready, and be at the gates to greet Mabel in half an hour. Threats or no threats, he was going to push on. He would bring Mabel here, he would show Bill who was in control.

 _Who are you kidding?_ asked a tiny voice in the back of his mind. Gideon ignored it.

The weak winter sun peeked timidly over the mountains in the distance. Gideon got ready as it rose and chased away the remnants of distress from his dream. By the time he made it down to the gates of the Northwest Manor, it was more confidently shining down on him, illuminating the gilded wooden gates and glinting off the immaculate ice sculptures that dotted the grounds.

Gideon walked up the path, which had been perfectly cleared of snow, and towards the gates. His heart beat in a strange triplet rhythm against his footsteps, trying to push the tempo of his pace against the will of his sluggish feet. No need to rush. No need to act like he was excited to see Mabel, that he couldn’t wait for her to arrive.

Yet he made it to the gates far too soon.

He moved to open the gate, but then he stopped and glanced back at the Manor. Father and Mother were both out, and the servants were all busy getting ready for the gala. Nobody would see if he. . .

Well, nobody would see except Mabel.

The amulet fastened around his neck flared a bright blue, and Gideon leapt up off the ground. Trails of teal light flowed from his feet as his power bore him up and up and over the gate. He hovered there over it for a microsecond, his cape fluttering in the wind, before dropping back down into the snow on the other side. It buckled beneath his glowing feet as he landed firmly on the ground.

He looked up as the glow faded. Mabel Pines stood a few feet away from him, a startled look in her eyes.

Something thrilled through him. Gideon inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn’t like he was showing off — he hadn’t known Mabel would already be here. He straightened his coat. “Good morning.”

She swallowed. “Um, hi. I’m on time.”

Say something smooth, Gideon. “So you are.”

Close enough.

“Do you have everything you need?” he continued.

She shrugged her backpack higher up on her shoulders. “Y-yeah. I think so.”

Her eyes flicked upwards and met his for a moment. Gideon’s breath hitched. As image from his dream — of Mabel, in dim light, hands grabbing her arms and pulling her back — flashed across his mind.

“Gideon?” Mabel asked warily.

He could turn her away right now. He could change his mind.

He mentally scoffed at himself. Or he could have a _spine_.

“Great,” he said to Mabel. “I’m glad to see you’re prepared. Let’s go, then.” He turned back to the gate and took a deep breath. He was doing this.

He palmed the print-recognition pad next to the gate to open it himself. No need to alert the servants he was bringing a guest — not this time.

The gate shuddered and swung inward. Gideon watched Mabel gawk in his periphery as the ornate mansion came into view.

“Welcome,” Gideon said with a wave of his hand, “to Northwest Manor.”

~~~~~

_What am I doing here?_

This was the first coherent thought that flashed through Mabel’s mind as she stepped into the Northwest Manor. She gazed at the vaulted ceilings, the smooth staircases, the shining floors — and shuddered at their beauty. The manor was beautiful, yes. But it was a cold, calculated beauty, a beauty that made Mabel feel small and out of place.

Gideon led her to what seemed to be a ballroom. Immediately, Mabel felt a strange sense of vertigo. The ballroom was bright and big and open, with walls plastered with mirrors. Gilded mirrors of all sizes, everywhere Mabel turned, making the room feel infinite. And yet, the pillars that lined the outer edges and stretched up to the ceilings felt like bars. Mirrors and bars. An infinite prison.

Mabel found herself glancing at Gideon, wondering if he felt the same.

If he did, he didn’t show it. “This way.” They walked across the ballroom.

The mirrors watched Mabel as she passed them. They reflected her own image back at her, framed in their beauty, as if they were sneering at her common appearance, mocking her for being less beautiful than they.

It was a blatant reminder that Mabel didn’t belong in this beautiful, frightening place.

She tried to keep her eyes on the back of Gideon’s head, but that didn’t help either. It only made her wonder, once again, what he was thinking. Why he would bring her here. Why she dared leave the house after her recent experiences with the supernatural. Why she somehow, despite everything, _trusted_ Gideon, just a little.

She really, really didn’t want to trust him.

They passed out of the ballroom through one of the many entrances and into a long, carpeted hallway. Mabel blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light and hurried after Gideon, whose gait had gotten noticeably faster.

He slowed when they reached an imposing black door after a few minutes of walking down hall after hall. Mabel had lost all sense of direction by now and had trouble breathing the deeper they went into the maze. What if she got lost? What if someone trapped her in here?

She took an unconscious step closer to Gideon.

Gideon opened the door, pressing his black gloved hand against the black metal knob. It swung open silently to reveal a dark room. “This is where the haunting is the worst,” he said, stepping inside.

Mabel looked into the darkness, then at Gideon. “Is there a light?”

“Of course.” He hit a light switch.

Only then would Mabel follow him in.

Electric candles on large chandeliers flickered to life as she stepped into the room. It was a long room, almost like its own wide hallway. On Mabel’s right, the entire wall was dedicated to the Northwest family tree. Black veins of paint stretched across the wall, splitting off into branches with delicate script written at their tips. On the left were large portraits, each bearing a stately man or woman who stared piercingly out of his or her frame. Golden plaques beneath the paintings bore fancy names — all of which ended in _Northwest_.

Mabel spent a moment surveying the room. Then she turned to Gideon. “The hauntings are based in this room?”

He nodded.

“Wow,” Mabel said softly, looking at the family tree. “They must really hate your family.” She glanced sideways at Gideon. “Do you know why?”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable. “My family has. . . wronged many people, in their view. These ghosts could be any number of unhappy groups. I don’t know their identity.”

Mabel bit her lip in thought. She felt better now that she had a substantial mystery to explore. “Alright,” she said, and she walked purposefully to the center of the room. She dropped her backpack onto the floor and started rummaging through it, pulling out candles, a long piece of chalk, and a few pages from the Journal she had photocopied. Setting the pages aside, she started setting out candles.

“What are you doing?” Gideon demanded, coming up behind her.

She looked back at him, then held the chalk out to him. “Setting up a séance. Are you good with drawing circles?”

“No,” he said abruptly. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? The chalk will wash off the floor, I promise. And anyway, we need to talk to them to see what they — ”

“I’ve already tried that.” Gideon took the chalk out of her hand. “They — they won’t talk. All they’ll say is that they want us dead.”

Mabel shot him an annoyed glance. _I can understand that,_ she almost said, but stopped herself. He didn’t hate Gideon _that_ much.

“Maybe if a non-Northwest talks to them — ”

“ _No_.”

Mabel got to her feet and turned to face Gideon head-on. “I’m _sorry_ , I _thought_ you wanted my help.”

“I do. But — no séances. Talking to these ghosts isn’t going to help.”

“That’s the first step for these kinds of things!”

“Well, I already did it, and it’s _not going to help_.”

They glared at each other for a moment.

“Fine,” Mabel said, breaking his gaze. She bent down to pick up the Journal pages. “If you’re so against diplomacy, I guess we’ll go straight to force.” She sat down cross-legged on the floor and started rifling through the pages of the Journal in stony silence.

Stony soon gave way to awkward as Gideon just watched her. Mabel pretended not to notice, pretended her face wasn’t growing red, pretended to focus on what she was reading. After a few minutes, she managed to calm down and focus enough to find something.

“Okay,” she said, getting to her feet once again. “You said yesterday the ghosts were flickering lights and writing on mirrors, right?”

“Yes. They also. . . nearly blew my mother’s bathrobe off of her.”

“Unnatural gusts of wind,” Mabel muttered, scanning the page. “Yep. Looks like you’re dealing with a Category Five, maybe Six, according to Ford’s hierarchy. A simple exorcism should — ”

“You don’t think I haven’t tried that too?” Gideon asked in exasperation. “I’ve performed many, many exorcisms, Pines. Probably more than you have. It didn’t work.”

Mabel closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. “What did you use?”

“My amulet.”

Mabel’s eyes flew open. “You can do exorcisms with your amulet?”

“Yes, and séances.”

She stared at him for a moment. Just how much could those amulets do?

 _That_ amulet, Mabel. The other one is gone. And this one. . . well, Gideon can hopefully be trusted with it.

“Well,” she said, “maybe that’s your problem. You’re using your amulet. If we tried a séance — ”

“ _No séances._ ”

“If we tried an _exorcism_ with the supplies I brought, it might work.” She grabbed her backpack. “I’ve got smudging sticks, salt, holy water. . . we can try a couple things.”

Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I knew you were just going to suggest rudimentary, basic solutions. . .”

Mabel eyes widened. “Well, excuse me!” she said, offended. “You asked for my help, and I’m giving it! Besides, you have to start somewhere — ”

“I told you, I’ve already tried — ”

“No you haven’t, you’ve tried tricks with your amulet! This isn’t just the basic stuff, it’s the foundational stuff, and we gotta try it before we can figure out what else to — ”

“Just how many ghosts have you actually worked with, Pines?”

“Enough to know what I’m doing!” she shot back. “Great Galileo’s Ghost, if I knew you were going to be so rude about my suggestions, maybe I wouldn’t have come!”

Mabel’s voice rang through the room. Gideon didn’t respond. She opened her mouth to continue, but he held up a hand.

“What?” she demanded.

The lights flickered.

Mabel jumped a little. When the lights came back on, she noticed Gideon’s expression: grim, as he stared at something behind and to her right.

Dreading what she would see, Mabel turned around.

The Northwests in the portraits no longer stared imperiously out at her. Their eyes were invisible, covered by thick black ink that welled up and spilled down their cheeks like tears. More ink spilled from their mouths, running down the canvases and dripping onto the floor.

“Oh,” Mabel whispered.

She stuffed the Journal pages into her backpack and swung it over her shoulder, watching the paintings all the while. “Where are you?” she called softly. The light had dimmed considerably, making fuzzy shadows in the corners of the room.

“Let’s go,” Gideon said.

Mabel shushed him.

A small fire of white light suddenly appeared in mid-air a few feet away from them. It bobbed up and down, and Mabel got the feeling it was watching them.

“Hello,” she said. “You’re kind of a cute little guy, aren’t you?”

Another white light appeared.

“Yes, you can all come out,” Mabel said, trying to keep her voice calm.

Another light appeared. Then another. Then another. Little lights popped up all over the room, illuminating the pools of ink still cascading from the portraits.

“ _Mabel_.” Gideon grabbed her shoulder.

“Let’s talk about this,” Mabel tried.

The white lights stopped multiplying.

“Is that all of you?” Mabel asked.

The lights started converging, dimming as they collided, building up and out until they formed one huge, ghostly figure with fiery red pits for eyes.

“Oh,” Mabel said again.

The ghost stared Mabel down. The ink from the portraits poured out faster. The frames started to rattle violently.

Gideon’s hand was suddenly clasping Mabel’s firmly. She tore her gaze from the ghost and looked into his fierce eyes.

“Run,” he said.

So they did.


	5. Chapter 5

This was stupid.

Gideon and Mabel tore down the halls of the Northwest Manor, weaving around tight corners and plunging deeper into the maze of Gideon’s home. Gideon knew he’d be able to find his way around when he needed to, but for now they had only one objective: _get away from the ghost._

This was stupid. Of _course_ Mabel would want to _talk_ to them! She’d probably never even dealt with a rampaging ghost bent on destroying everything. Had she ever met any ghosts at all? Just because someone was interested in something didn’t mean they had any _experience_ with it. So why would he be so stupid as to assume she could help him?

He should just send her home.

Something rattled behind them. Right. _After_ they lost this ghost.

They skidded around a suit of armor that hung from its supports like a dejected puppet. Okay, Gideon knew where they were. There were some stairs near here, just past that big display case, maybe they could —

Mabel dug her heels in.

The sudden stop yanked on Gideon’s arm, throwing him off balance. He pulled his hand away from Mabel’s. “What are you doing?” he demanded, massaging his arm.

She stared back at him defiantly. “We’re going to talk to it.”

Stupid, stupid.

“I already told you, it _wants me dead_. What more do you need to ask it?!”

“Maybe we can reason with it!”

“Do you _want_ it to kill me, Pines?”

“Do you really want to ask me that question?” she shot back.

Touché.

“Listen,” Gideon tried, “some beings _can’t_ be reasoned with.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Mabel demanded. “You’re not the only one who’s come up against creatures like this!”

“Well, you clearly don’t have the experience I thought you did if you think the best way to talk to a rampaging ghost is to _talk_ to it!”

Mabel went quiet. The color seeped away from her face.

“What?” Gideon looked around for signs of the ghost. Nothing. What was wrong?

He looked back at Mabel. She was staring intently at the floor.

“Mabel? What is it?”

She didn’t say anything.

 _Stupid_. What was with her? They didn’t have time for this.

“Mabel, we’ve got to go,” he said gently.

“Maybe it’s scared.”

Her voice was cracked and quiet. Her eyes never left the carpet patterns on the floor.

“What do you mean?”

She wouldn’t continue.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You got yourself into this mess, Northwest.

“Listen, Mabel. We’re not talking to the ghost. And if I have to levitate you with my amulet to stop you, I will.”

Her head snapped up, and she stared at him with wide eyes. He flinched a little when he saw that they were wet. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. She sounded horrified.

“I would if it meant saving your life.”

“Saving _your_ life.”

“Mabel, come _on_ , let’s just go!”

The suit of armor moved.

It perked up and leaned away from its supports. Metal clanked against metal as the arms flopped against the walls and the body of the armor. An unearthly glow sprang up behind the visor.

“That’s it,” Gideon said. He put his hand on his amulet, and it glowed a faint blue.

That snapped Mabel out of it. “No!”

“Mabel, we have to run!”

The armor rattled.

“Don’t you dare use that thing on me!”

“Mabel, it’s going to _attack us!_ ”

The rattling was deafening. Gideon’s hand tightened around his amulet. It flared up.

“NO!” Mabel leapt forward to tackle Gideon. He willed her to freeze where she stood.

Mabel barreled into him.

One moment Gideon was on his feet. The next he was tumbling around on the carpet, light and sound cascading around him in a dizzying mess. Light flashed, sound swirled, and then he hit something hard that gave way beneath him and sent him onto the cold, hard ground.

The cold, hard. . . uncarpeted ground.

Gideon lay there discombobulated for a few moments before finally realizing he was laying on the ground with Mabel on top of him. He scrambled out from under her and got shakily to his feet, turning towards the only light source left: a faint yellow glow that filtered through what looked like a thick curtain. There was a horrendous scraping noise, and as Gideon watched, the light disappeared.

Plunging them into darkness.

“Where are we?” came Mabel’s panicked voice a second later. “Gideon?”

“Right here,” he said. “We. . . we fell through a tapestry, I think.”

“Like. . . like a secret passage?”

“Yes.” But this wasn’t where the passage to the Order headquarters was located. So. . . where were they?

Gideon lit up his amulet.

It flared to life like a light blue candle. Mabel’s face, a few feet away, appeared in its ghastly glow. Gideon couldn’t tell if she looked pale because of the light or because she was afraid. Probably both.

“Well, at least _that’s_ still working,” Gideon muttered. “Why didn’t you _freeze_ her?”

“Are you talking to your amulet?” Mabel asked tentatively.

“I tried to freeze you and it didn’t work,” he snapped at her.

“Well, good! You shouldn’t use that on people!”

Gideon glared at her for a moment before breaking his gaze away and stomping over to the entrance. Yep, it was a tapestry, all right. He took his gloves off and ran his hands along the thick, coarse material, trying to find to the gap between the two that would take them back out to the hallway. It hardly moved under his touch. He pushed on it.

There was something hard behind it.

“Great. They trapped us.” Gideon stepped back and tried to levitate the object. But he couldn’t see it, so he couldn’t move it. With a frustrated growl, he changed his focus to the tapestry in order to move it out of the way.

Nothing happened.

“Oh, come _on!_ ” he exclaimed.

“Wh-why isn’t it working?” Mabel asked.

He threw her a scathing look over his shoulder. “Oh, _now_ you want it to work.”

She flushed and looked away.

He sighed and dropped his hand from his amulet. “My guess is the ghosts’ energy is interfering with it.”

“It can do that?”

“It’s gone sort of haywire when I’ve worked with ghosts before — but nothing too serious. Nothing this powerful.”

These ghosts were a lot more dangerous than Gideon had originally estimated. And he’d brought Mabel right to them.

Stupid.

He put his gloves back on and threw his shoulder against the tapestry, trying to push the block away with brute force. It didn’t budge. “Come help me,” he told Mabel.

She joined him, but he caught the doubtful look on her face. They both pushed, giving it their full weight, their feet sliding across the stone floor. It was to no avail.

Mabel stopped pushing. “M-maybe there’s another way out,” she said. “At least your amulet is still giving off light.”

Gideon let out a pent-up breath. “Right. Let’s look around.” This could be a passage leading halfway across town, for all he knew. But it seemed their best option. “Stay close to me and in the light. We can’t get separated.”

“Got you there,” Mabel said, giving a wary look to the darkness beyond the blue light of the amulet.

Gideon turned and started following the right wall, holding his hand out so that his fingers brushed against it as he walked. It was only a minute or two before they reached a corner and had to turn left. Then right. Then right again. Then left again.

“What’s that on the ground?” Mabel asked. Her quiet voice echoed dully.

Gideon followed her gaze. Chunks of jagged rock littered the ground, which looked to be exposed dirt in the center of the room rather than the bare stone Gideon and Mabel were walking on.

“I don’t know,” he said, but kept walking.

They traversed two long stretches of wall, turned left twice, and walked a little ways further before the wall beneath Gideon’s fingers changed. They were back at the tapestry.

“It’s a room,” he said with a grimace. “One exit.”

“No exits,” Mabel whispered.

Gideon decided not to think about that. “The question is, why didn’t I know about this?”

Mabel looked at him incredulously. “No, the question is, how do we get out!”

She turned around and started banging on whatever was blocking the exit. The sound was muffled by the tapestry. “ _HELP! HELP US, WE’RE TRAPPED!”_

Gideon winced. He’d thought Dipper was the only loud one. Must be a Pines thing.

“ _HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE!_ ”

“That’s not going to help, Pines,” Gideon said.

She turned on him. “Why not? Don’t you have a bajillion servants running around?”

“Yes, but they’re all occupied elsewhere.” Getting ready for the Northwest Gala. Nobody would be coming this deep into the mansion’s halls tonight, so the servants wouldn’t be cleaning back here.

Mabel started taking deep, obnoxiously loud breaths, like she was trying to calm herself. “Fine. Fine. We’ll just wait until the ghostly energy calms down and you can move that thing with your amulet. It’s fine.” She leaned against the wall next to the tapestry and slid to the floor, where she put her head back and took more deep breaths.

Gideon just stood there, keeping his amulet steady, hoping the ghostly energy wouldn’t surge so much that its light would also fail.

Mabel’s loud breathing stopped. She looked up at Gideon. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘Why didn’t I know about this’? Are there other secret passages around here?”

Gideon didn’t answer. Mabel’s eyes lit up.

Great. He’d have to keep an eye on her when they got out of here.

“Let’s explore the middle of the room,” he said to distract her. “Where those stone bits were.”

She got to her feet and took one big breath. “Okay.”

They made their way slowly to the center of the room, watching their step as best they could in the light of the amulet. The stone floor gave way suddenly to dirt, which luckily was caked enough that it didn’t cling to Gideon’s shoes. The pieces of stone were everywhere. Some were half buried in the dirt; others rose up like jagged mountains; still others were littered among the rest, lying forlornly in the dirt. Pieces of plaster and wood and the occasional brick intermingled with it all.

“It’s like they just stopped construction around here,” Mabel said. She craned her neck to look up at the ceiling. Gideon glanced up to see exposed pipes and infrastructure.

“And then walled it off,” he finished. The walls they’d followed were very firm, deliberate brick barriers.

“Why?” Mabel asked. She knelt down and picked up a piece of stone. Gideon wrinkled his nose — did she have any idea what might be on that?

“It’s jagged at the edges, but completely smooth in the center,” she said, turning it over in her hands. “Like it was weathered. . . and then hit by a sledgehammer.”

“Huh,” Gideon said, not particularly interested. He tried to levitate the stone with his amulet. Still nothing.

They were relatively quiet for a minute, with Mabel reaching out and examining stone fragments and muttering to herself and Gideon rubbing his amulet and trying to make it work and growling to himself. Surely the ghosts were gone by now? There didn’t seem to be any ghostly activity in here. So why wasn’t the dumb amulet doing anything more than acting as a glorified nightlight?

“Gideon,” Mabel said suddenly, sounding excited. “Gideon, there’s writing on this one. Some of them have had weird markings, but I think this one is in English.” She rubbed at it with her sleeve. “Let me see the light.”

Gideon moved closer to her and leaned over to look.

Mabel squinted down at the larger-than-normal piece of stone cradled in her arms. Her fingers traced the faded letters. “S. . . T. . . I. . . N. . . P. . . is that a K? No, it’s an E. . . and then an A. . .” She frowned. “That’s it.”

“ _Stinpea_ ,” Gideon said out loud. “Nonsense.”

“Yeah, but I think there’s a space in after the T and the N,” Mabel said. “So. . . _st in pea_. Well, ‘in’ is a word.” She set the slab down. “Here, help me look for more with writing.”

“No thank you,” Gideon said.

Mabel rolled her eyes at him and then grabbed the next nearby fragment. “Aha!” she said after a bit. “Here’s another one. This one just has an O. . . no, a C. . . and an E. C and E. _Cest in pea_? No. . . _St in_ _p_ — ”

She stopped. She put the stone down gingerly on the ground. She looked up at Gideon with wide, fearful eyes.

He stared back at her with narrow, grim ones.

They said it together: Mabel in a whisper, Gideon in a growl.

“Rest in peace.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Northwests built their mansion over a graveyard.

Mabel backed slowly away from the stone pieces — the _gravestone_ pieces — until she was off the dirt floor. She wiped her hands on her jeans, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be cursed just for touching the shattered gravestones. Then again, Gideon was already cursed, so maybe it’d rubbed off on her just from being around him.

“Oh, come on, Pines, the ghosts don’t care about you.” Gideon’s face was partly in shadow, since the amulet was under his chin, but Mabel could still see him roll his eyes at her.

“You built your mansion over a _graveyard?_ ” she demanded. “You _bulldozed_ over someone’s _resting place?_ No wonder you’re haunted! You’re _standing six feet above a dead body!_ ”

Gideon took a casual step away from the gravestones. “ _I_ didn’t build over anyone,” he said, moving towards her. “This mansion was built a few centuries before I was even born.”

“Yeah, well, now your whole family is cursed,” Mabel shot back, “so it doesn’t really matter. It’s a wonder the ghosts haven’t tried to kill you before. You said you had a sort of treaty with them?”

“Yeah. They wouldn’t bother us, and we’d stop trying to exorcise them.”

“No wonder they didn’t finish construction in here,” Mabel mused. “The haunting was probably so bad that they had to just block it off and build around it. And they can’t leave the mansion, because their resting place is _here_ , and you defaced it.”

“My great-great grandfather defaced it,” Gideon corrected.

“And for some reason they haven’t moved on to the next life. . . and you trying to exorcise them with your amulet was like trying to push them against a screen door. It didn’t do anything, but it hurt. But brute force can’t fix their problem.” She frowned. “And apparently they think killing you can.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Can it?”

“This is serious!” Mabel said. “You — your family — you’re torturing these souls every day just because you decided their graveyard was good real estate! And _then_ you try to _banish_ them from their own resting place because they _annoy_ you! Do you know how — how — ”

She stopped, clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to force back tears. _Do you know how scary it is to be a trapped ghost?_

Then it hit her.

“This,” she said, her voice quiet with horror. “This is why you didn’t want me to talk to them. You didn’t want me to know about this place.”

“What?” Gideon said. “No. I had no idea about this room, or that the mansion was over a graveyard.”

She glared at him. “Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t! My parents told me to exorcise these ghosts, so I tried, and when it didn’t work, I made a truce with them. Then everything was fine until they decided to rampage again. I _did not know_ about the graveyard. Otherwise I wouldn’t have just tried ‘brute force,’ as you put it.”

There it was again. That tone that said, _I obviously know a million times more about ghosts than you do._ Mabel hated it. She wanted to punch a wall, stomp her foot, push Gideon into the dirt. _You have no idea!_ she wanted to scream. _You have no idea what I’ve been through!_

“You obviously don’t believe me,” Gideon said, sounding disgusted. “I’m not just another Northwest, Mabel. I wouldn’t trap a bunch of ghosts just because I wanted the land their graves were in. Do you really think so poorly of me?”

She was shaking too badly to answer, so she just glared. His callous words, mixed with being trapped, mixed with being trapped in a _graveyard_ — it was building up in her entire body. It was too much.

Now Gideon sounded a little desperate. “Mabel, I’m telling you, I didn’t know about the graveyard!” He tried to meet her eyes, but now she was refusing to look at him. “Mabel. Would I lie to you?”

“Maybe not,” Mabel said shakily, her voice rising, “but you’d _steal!_ ”

Gideon went silent.

Mabel couldn’t take this anymore. She had to get _out_ , she had to get away from Gideon, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she was trapped, she was trapped with _him_ —

So she did the next best thing and stomped to the other side of the room.

She avoided the gravestones, walking along the edges, and made her way to the little alcove in the back corner, where she wouldn’t be able to see Gideon or his amulet if she positioned herself the right way. It was dark, but that was better than the amulet. Better than having to see him.

Mabel sat down against the wall, still shaking with anger and panic, wanting to breathe deeply but just too upset. She’d been okay when she was engrossed in the mystery of the gravestones, but solving it had just made everything worse. Now she was entirely aware that she was trapped in a room with an old graveyard surrounded by the lavish mansion of a family too engrossed in their riches to even care.

Trapped in a room with a member of that family.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself somewhere else. It didn’t work. She kept trying, kept trying to steady her breathing, kept trying to calm down.

It took a long time, but eventually she managed to calm herself. She leaned her head back against the wall, focusing on breathing in and out, wondering what Gideon was doing, trying not to think about Gideon.

But she was starting to feel bad for what she’d said. She wasn’t really angry about him stealing the Journal, or at least it wasn’t the most important thing right now. She was just anxious about being trapped, and she’d let it out on him. . . but she couldn’t apologize, he didn’t deserve that, he _did_ still steal the Journal back when Pacifica was terrorizing Mabel’s family.

She kind of wished he’d come over here.

No, stop that, Mabel. He’s a Northwest. He’s _Gideon_ Northwest. Even if his family hadn’t done terrible things, _he_ still has. You don’t want him around.

But. . . she wanted _someone_ around, and he was here. . .

She moaned and lay down on the stone floor, curling up in a miserable ball. She should never have agreed to this. It was too soon after. . . after what happened with Bill, and she was exhausted. She hadn’t fully recovered yet. She shouldn’t have left the Museum, she should’ve just stayed and slept and played cards with Dipper. . .

Gideon was here. . . at least she wasn’t completely alone. . .

There was no telling how long Mabel lay there in the darkness, thinking all sorts of tangled thoughts. Finally, though, the events of the day overtook her, and she fell asleep.

~~~~~

Mabel floated through the theater as fast as she could. She had to get away, get away _now_. He was after her.

She went through the wall and came out in the house, above the spot where the audience sat. It was unnaturally crowded, and she wove through people, trying to get away.

“HELP!” she shouted. But nobody heard her.

“Please help,” she pleaded. “He’s coming for me.”

Someone walked through her.

Mabel was so panicked that she couldn’t think straight. He was coming, and there was nothing she could do.

She strained her ears, trying to hear him. There it was, in the distance. A chilling, multi-layered laugh. . .

Mabel woke up.

She was still half in her dream, though, and the darkness of the room around her made her think she was back in the theater basement, trying to crack the laptop password. She gasped and sat up, looking around. Darkness.

Mabel started to hyperventilate. She was confused — she couldn’t remember where she was, and her nightmare had been scary enough that it was playing in her head over and over again. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to calm her breathing.

“Mabel?”

It was Gideon. She was in the Northwest Manor, trapped in a graveyard by vengeful ghosts. Remembering this did not help Mabel calm down.

The blue light from Gideon’s amulet was something to focus on, though, so Mabel stared at it as she hyperventilated.

“Mabel, calm down. I’m here.”

She couldn’t stop herself now that she’d gotten started. She took huge deep breath after huge deep breath, trying to stop in vain.

“Mabel.”

Gideon touched her shoulder.

Mabel jumped and stopped hyperventilating. Gideon was touching her. He was touching her, and he’d just watched her have that entire freak-out —

“There we go,” he said. “Take slow breaths.”

She did as he said, still shocked from his touch.

Gideon moved his hand away and sat next to her while she calmed down. The skin around her eyes was wet with tears. Mabel wiped at them.

Mabel and Gideon sat there in silence for a long time, Mabel trying to breathe quietly and smoothly. She didn’t want to go into another panic attack.

“Yeah,” Gideon said, sounding hesitant. “I had one a couple hours ago.”

Mabel looked sideways at him. “A panic attack?”

Gideon nodded. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

Mabel decided to change the subject. “You said it happened a couple hours ago? How long was I asleep?”

“A while. I don’t have a way to measure time in here besides approximation.”

They fell into awkward silence again. Mabel traced the gravestone pieces with her eyes as Gideon coughed into his glove.

A realization hit Mabel so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. She looked up at Gideon, wanting to ask, but it was such an awkward thing to get out in the open.

“Um,” she said hesitantly, “were you. . . watching me sleep?”

Gideon blushed and doubled his efforts to avoid her gaze.

Mabel’s fingers traced the dust on the floor. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Ever since the incident with the laptop, I’ve needed to take a good amount of naps throughout the day. Dipper is usually watching.”

“Oh.”

The conversation died after that.

Mabel sighed, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back. “I wonder what time it is.”

“Late,” Gideon guessed.

“Yeah,” Mabel said. “Will you be missed? Will they come looking for us?”

“Probably, but I don’t think they’ll find us. The hallways are basically a maze, and this room is secret, anyway.”

“Well, if we’re in here for long enough, they’ll find us.”

His eyes clouded, and he drew his legs in close. “Even if they do, my father will probably think I’m trying to get out of tonight’s event again.”

“But can’t you explain that we were trapped in here?”

“It won’t do much good,” Gideon said. “Father punishes first and asks questions later. And my explanations will just sound like excuses.” He sighed. “I have to have the ghosts gone by this evening. That’s the deadline Father gave me.”

Mabel let her legs drop. “Your dad sounds terrible,” she joked. “I can see where you got it.”

Gideon sat very stiffly. “My father is a very good man,” he said. “Just a little intimidating, is all.”

“Intimidating? You’re afraid of him?”

Gideon shifted uncomfortably. “Somewhat, yes.”

“Why?”

Gideon looked even more uncomfortable. “All children should be a little afraid of their parents, I think.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m not going to.”

They fell back into awkward silence, Mabel cursing her tongue. It moved faster than her thoughts, and she regretted that joke now. She should’ve left it alone.

This silence lasted a lot longer than the previous ones, and Mabel turned to her thoughts, which were mostly guilty. She wondered how long they were going to stay trapped in this graveyard, and how they were going to get out. She also wondered how Gideon was dealing with being trapped so well. He looked so smooth and cool-headed, even in this situation. How did he do it? How come she couldn’t channel some of that ability herself?

She thought about her panic attack. She wasn’t channeling it _then_. But Gideon had helped her calm down much faster than she would have on her own, she figured.

Gideon shifted a little next to her. She was grateful for his proximity, and his amulet light. He’d done some terrible things to her in the past, but maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones and just appreciate his company.

Gideon let out a sigh. “Mabel,” he said. The words sounded reluctant. “I’m sorry about the Journal.”

He said it so sincerely that Mabel was shocked. Had he been thinking about the Journal this whole time?

“Th-thanks,” she said. “I, um, accept your apology.”

They both went quiet.

“It really hurt, though,” Mabel said. “I was desperate to save Dipper, and I put a lot of faith in you, just to get betrayed like that. I was willing to make a deal with Bill Cipher once you left. Only Ford coming for me stopped us.”

Gideon’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, just stared into the distance.

Mabel kept rambling about how upsetting Gideon stealing the Journal was. It felt good to get it all out while they were sitting next to each other. Gideon listened without interrupting, for which Mabel was grateful.

“ — and I got it from a hole in the ground, so I didn’t even expect _you_ to know about them!” She stopped. “Wait. Wait a second. How _did_ you know about them?”

Gideon didn’t answer.

Mabel fiddled with her sweater as she thought. “I didn’t know about the Journals until I found mine, and I’m staying with the man who wrote them! Do you. . .” She paused and looked up at Gideon with wide eyes. “Do you have one of them?”

Gideon was silent, but Mabel took that as a positive answer.

She scooted closer to Gideon. “Can I have it?” she asked. “We really _really_ need all of them for — a project.”

“What?” Gideon spluttered. “So it’s okay for you to take mine but it’s not okay for me to take yours?”

Mabel flushed with embarrassment. “You’d be giving it back to its author,” she said. “Why do you need it?”

Gideon hesitated. “It’s. . . my only escape,” he said.

Mabel was quiet. That was what hers was for her too at first. An escape from Ford and his lack of desire to explore.

She brought her knees in closer to her chest. “I understand,” she said. “It was super scary to give mine back to Ford, but it’s been worth it. He really needs it.”

“What for?” Gideon asked.

She slid her eyes down to her feet, hesitant. “I. . . don’t know if I can say.”

“Fine,” Gideon said. “Then I’ll keep my Journal.”

Mabel lifted her eyes to glare at him half-heartedly. “He needs them back. . .”

She trailed off, trying to think of the best way to word it.

“He needs all three Journals back so he can fix a machine and save someone’s life,” she said.

“Who?”

Mabel hesitated again. “I. . . don’t think I should betray Ford’s trust.”

Gideon looked at her in exasperation. “Did he tell you specifically not to tell anyone?”

“Well. . . no. . .”

“Then it’s fine. Tell me who you need to save.”

Mabel bit her lip. “Well. . . fine. It’s. . . it’s Ford’s twin brother, Stanley.”

Gideon’s eyes widened until Mabel could see the whites.

“Yeah, I was shocked to find out, too,” she said. “But we don’t even know if he’s alive. Still, we gotta try, right?”

Gideon’s eyes went back to normal, and he took a few calming breaths.

Mabel held her breath.

“Here,” Gideon said quickly, quietly. He reached into his vest and pulled out a book. His fingers lingered on the cover as she grasped it, but then let go.”

She held the Journal to her chest. “Thank you, thank you!” she said. She uncurled and put the Journal down on the ground, looking at the big “2” on the cover. “This will help so much!”

And before she knew what she was thinking, she hugged Gideon tightly.

He stiffened, but then relaxed into her grip. They stayed there for a second, content, until the embarrassment set in.

Mabel released Gideon quickly and coughed awkwardly as she scooted away. He looked as embarrassed as she felt, which was somewhat relieving. They sat there, both consumed with feeling awkward, until there was a grinding noise from across the room.

Mabel and Gideon both looked at each other. Then they jumped to their feet.

“Is that?” Mabel asked.

“I think so,” Gideon replied.

They hurriedly made their way to the  graveyard exit — Mabel avoiding the grave fragments, Gideon running through them, and so making it to the exit before Mabel — and were eyewitnesses as a tiny bit of light came through the thick tapestry that guarded it.

“I think we’ll be able to get out now,” Mabel said excitedly as the grinding continued.

They waited as whatever was blocking them in was moved out of the way. The moment it was gone, Gideon thrust his hand into the tapestry and felt around.

“Aha!” he said, pushing it aside. Light from the hallway spilled through into the graveyard.

“Thank goodness,” Mabel said breathlessly.

She blinked a little in the bright light and then smiled widely at Gideon.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.


	7. Chapter 7

The light in the hallway was much dimmer than Gideon had originally thought. Which set off a cascade of nervousness through his body.

A clock. He had to see a clock he had to look at a clock —

He brushed the cobwebs and dirt from his clothes and scanned the hall, trying to find one.

Mabel had left the graveyard first, and she was still shuddering from the ordeal. “That was not fun.”

“I’ll say,” Gideon said. “We need to find a clock.”

Mabel looked around. “Um. . . maybe there’s one this way.” She started walking away. Gideon followed.

It took a few minutes, but they eventually found a clock amidst some paintings of Northwest accomplishments. Gideon’s heart nearly stopped when he read the clock face. _No. . ._

It was almost time for the party. The one he had to have the ghosts defeated by.

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked. “You look more pale than usual.”

“No, I’m not okay,” Gideon said shortly. His mind raced. Maybe he could get Mabel a different outfit so she could blend in with the guests.

It might work for a second, until Pacifica saw her. Gideon was so sick of Pacifica’s grudge against Mabel. At least Mabel was okay, unlike her annoying twin brother.

Well, they might as well try the different outfit thing. It might work, and Mabel’s current outfit with its pine tree logo would make her stick out like a sore thumb.

“This way,” he said to Mabel decisively. He started walking quickly down the hall, and Mabel had to jog to keep up.

He led her through the halls until they were somewhat near to the main hall, where the party was being held. Then he pulled her aside into a closet.

Well, _he_ thought of it as a closet.

“This is huge!” Mabel said, looking around in awe. “You could fit my entire family in here and then some!”

“Well, it’s my mother’s, and she owns a lot of clothes,” Gideon said.

“There’s even a bathroom!”

“Yes. I think we have twenty bathrooms total. You can use it to change.”

“Change?” Mabel asked.

“Yes. So you’ll blend in.”

“With the servants?”

“Or my parents. Even the servants look nice.”

Mabel put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I _don’t_ look nice?” she asked defensively.

Gideon could feel himself start to sweat. “No, I’m just saying it’s better to dress formally when you’re around formal people.”

 _And it’d be nice if you impressed my parents,_ his brain added unhelpfully. Gideon went a bit red and tried to steer his thoughts in the other direction.

“Let’s see if anything in here fits you,” he said.

They looked for a while. But luckily, Geneva wasn’t one to throw out old clothes, and they eventually found a black dress that looked like a decent size.

“Black?” Mabel asked. “I’d probably just look like I’m going to a funeral in that.”

“Yes, but it’s the only thing close to your size we can find, so you’re stuck with it,” Gideon said. “Go into the bathroom and change.”

Mabel took the dress, sighed, and went into the bathroom.

Gideon looked around the empty closet, feeling supremely awkward given the situation. After a minute, Mabel opened the door. She was still in the clothes she arrived in.

“Gideon?” she asked. “What is this?”

Gideon made a confused noise and stepped towards her to get a look.

“I was changing when, out of the blue, this happened,” Mabel said, gesturing to the mirror.

It was all fogged up, and words scratched out by a ghost’s finger read, _SO YOU FOLLOW OUR DEMANDS AFTER ALL, NORTHWEST._

“What does it mean by demands?” Mabel asked. “I thought you said the ghosts wanted your family dead.”

“They do,” Gideon said, “but they also had some little demands. Go back out into the closet to change and I’ll take care of this.”

Mabel looked suspicious, but she did as he said.

He closed the door behind her and activated his amulet.

The ghost was right in front of him.

“So,” the ghost said. “Did you have a change of heart?”

“No,” Gideon said, annoyed.

The ghost frowned. “But you gave her your Journal. We thought that meant you were considering out demands.”

“I can’t just quit the Order, that would make people suspicious!”

“People? Or your father?”

Gideon looked away for a second, but then back at the ghost. “Blind Lincoln. And the other Order members.”

The ghost floated up a little higher. “Do you like Bill?”

The question threw Gideon off guard. “No,” he answered honestly.

“Then what’s the problem? Why are you so against cutting ties with the Order? Isn’t the whole point of it to worship Bill?”

 _My father_ , Gideon thought. “And to keep people safe from knowledge about the supernatural,” he said.

“But is the effort working? You know multiple people who know about the supernatural anyway.”

“That’s probably because they’re on the Cipher Wheel,” Gideon said.

The ghost looked proud. “Ah, the Cipher Wheel. That was some of my best work.” He looked at Gideon sternly. “But I made it so Bill would never get so powerful — and dangerous — again.”

“Wait,” Gideon said, intrigued. “You’re one of the ancients who made the Cipher Wheel?”

“Yes!” the ghost said in exasperation. “And I helped fight in the first war against him, which ended with him being trapped in this dimension. We hoped it would last for a long time, but you can’t make prisons that will last for eternity for beings like Bill. You have to have a way for him to undo it built in.”

“Our mansion is built over an ancient burial ground?” Gideon asked. “No wonder we can’t get rid of you guys!” He paused for a moment to think. “And that also explains why my amulet wasn’t working earlier.”

“Yes, your mansion _is_ built over our burial ground. That’s why we’ve had to watch your family get involved with the organization that helps Bill. I’ve wished so many times that we could warn them of the danger, of Bill’s desire to unleash destruction on everything. But you could withdraw your support and push back the day that he succeeds.”

“I can’t abandon the Order or my father will make sure I pay,” Gideon said. He inwardly shuddered just thinking about the torture his father inflicted on him — or, had one of the servants inflict. Gaston Northwest preferred not to get his hands dirty.

“You must face your father,” the ghosts said.

Gideon mentally reached for an alternate option. “You said your burial ground is in here, right? Does that mean you’re trapped here?”

“Yes,” the ghost said. “But we are not at peace with Bill at large. If you left the Order, we would move on to the next life without any issues.”

“Is there any other way to release you?” Gideon asked.

“ _No_ ,” the ghost said firmly. “Face your father. Purge your family from the Order’s influence. Turn your back on Bill Cipher. _That_ is what will release us.”

And with that, the ghost floated through the wall and disappeared.

Gideon deactivated his amulet and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He _had_ to find another way.

He stayed in the bathroom a long time, thinking the situation over. The ghosts had demanded that Gideon and his father cut ties with the Order, but that wasn’t an option. Gaston might be mad if Gideon didn’t get rid of the ghosts before the party, but he’d be even _more_ mad if Gideon decided to follow their demands.

When he was unable to think of any solutions to his problem, Gideon sighed deeply and exited the bathroom.

Mabel turned when she heard the door. “Hi,” she said.

Gideon stared at her.

She looked a _lot_ better in that dress than he’d thought she would.

“Everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” he replied. “You look nice.”

It accidentally came out stiffly, but he couldn’t worry about that right now.

“Why am I dressed up, really?” Mabel asked. “Did I really look that bad?”

Gideon sighed. The party had probably started by now, and he could warn her to stay away. “No. You look fine, really. It’s just. . . there’s a party going on tonight, and I wanted you to blend in.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “A party? Like, with people?”

“Yes,” Gideon answered slowly.

Panic flitted across Mabel’s face. “They’re in danger then!”

“Wait, what?” Gideon asked.

“From the ghosts! We have to go warn everyone!”

Gideon took her by the arm. “Let’s not,” he said. “These guests. . . well, they won’t be in danger.”

“I don’t care! We still should warn them! It’s only decent. Who knows how much damage those ghosts can cause!”

She pulled her arm away from Gideon, threw open the door to the closet, and ran away down the hall.

Gideon sighed. “Mabel — ”

He ran after her.

What would his father say? He didn’t even know Mabel was here. Gideon had specifically had her come when both his parents were out preparing for the party. And that was practically nothing compared to what might happen if _Pacifica_ saw her.

He had hoped Mabel would get lost in the halls, but they were too close to the main hall for the hopes to come to fruition. Gideon could only pray he could catch up to Mabel.

He managed to grab her arm and pulled her to a stop right before she turned the corner into the party area. “Mabel!” he hissed. “My father will see you! And he doesn’t know you’re here!”

She pulled against his grip. “So what? Why are you so afraid of him, anyway?!”

“Because I have good reason for it!” Gideon held on tighter.

Mabel raised her arm to her mouth and licked his hand.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed, letting go of her. She immediately shot away from him, going around the corner and getting a good view of the party.

 _Dang it!_ Gideon ran after her and pulled her back. It worked, because she had gone limp with shock.

She turned to Gideon with wide eyes. “Gideon. . . I just saw Bud Pleasure.”

It took Gideon a second to understand the gravity of that statement. He was listening for Pacifica’s screams. But he didn’t hear anything, so he figured they were fine.

“Bud Pleasure!” Mabel repeated. “Pacifica’s dad! Their entire family disappeared a while ago! And now we’ve found them!”

Gideon sighed. “Mabel, Pacifica hated you. Do you really want to know where she is?”

“Well, not her, really. But her parents? Definitely.”

She probably was just getting excited about solving a mystery. Gideon tried to diffuse her. “Maybe her parents were just at work when you went to check.”

“You went to her house too! Did it look like they were at work?”

There were some clothes missing too, but Gideon wasn’t about to admit that, not with Mabel in this state. “I couldn’t tell, but it’s quite possible,” he wanted to say.

But he didn’t, because right then someone came around the corner. The worst possible person.

Gaston Northwest.


	8. Chapter 8

Mabel watched as Gideon went white. “What?” she asked in confusion.

“Who is this?” a deep voice said.

Mabel turned around to see a tall man with fancy clothes. He looked a little bit like Gideon, besides the white hair, and Mabel guessed this was Gideon’s father.

Gideon got in between Mabel and his father and assumed a protective stance. “She’s an expert on ghosts,” he said. His voice shook a little with fear. “I brought her to help.”

“Keep your voice down,” Gideon’s father said. He gave a nearby guest a fake smile, probably to mollify them in case they heard him. “Why didn’t you tell your mother and me about this?”

“It hasn’t worked so far,” Gideon said smoothly. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Mabel didn’t think it was a very good excuse, but Gideon’s father moved on. Probably because he would berate Gideon later.

“Wait,” Mr. Northwest said, “does that mean the ghosts are still here?”

Oops. Gideon’s face lost even more color. “Yes,” he admitted, glancing at the floor. “But their graveyard is in the mansion! We built over their resting place, and they’re trapped here!”

His father didn’t look surprised. Mabel wondered if that was because he knew about it, or because he was used to the Northwests doing things like that. “There has to be a way to get rid of them.”

“They told me that following their demands was the only way, but I’m not sure I believe them,” Gideon said. “I told them we weren’t going to do what they want.”

“Wait,” Mabel asked. “What did they want?”

Gideon and his father met each other’s eyes quickly. “Um,” Gideon said, “they want us to move their gravestones somewhere else. And that would take way too long.”

Mabel wanted to hit something. Preferably Gideon. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re rich! You can handle it!”

“Gideon,” his father cut in, “who is this?”

Mabel stood taller, upset that this man was talking about her instead of _to_ her. Gideon looked like he didn’t intend to answer anyway, so she did instead. “My name is Mabel.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” Mr. Northwest said, looking quite confused, which in turn confused Mabel. She didn’t think he’d be caught dead in the Mystery Museum. “What’s your surname?”

Gideon met Mabel’s eyes in a panic as if he didn’t want her to answer. But what could she do? “Um. . . Pines. I’m Mabel Pines.”

Mr. Northwest’s eyes widened. He looked at Gideon with even more anger in his expression, which is when Mabel knew that Gideon was in a heap of trouble. “You brought a Pines _here_?”

Mabel was even more confused. “What? Do you have something against my family?”

Mr. Northwest didn’t answer. “We will talk about this later,” he said to Gideon. Then he pulled out a bell, rang it, and addressed Mabel. “The butler will escort you out,” he said tightly.

Mabel tried to meet Gideon’s eyes, but he looked away. So she pleaded with his father. “Wait!” she said. “The guests are in danger! I don’t know if the ghosts want to hurt them — ”

“Oh, they will,” Mr. Northwest said.

“All the more reason to protect the guests! We have to fulfill the ghosts’ demands or find some other way to set them free.”

“We will do that _without_ your help,” Mr. Northwest said firmly. “Don’t worry about us.”

“But — ” Mabel spluttered. “You can’t just kick me out!”

“I can and I am.”

She turned to Gideon desperately. “Gideon! You can’t let him just get rid of me! I gotta stay and warn the guests!”

Gideon wouldn’t meet her eyes. He stared at the hard floor in silence.

“Thanks for the help,” Mabel said sarcastically.

When Gideon still wouldn’t look at her, she softened and touched his arm gently. “Gideon? Please help me.”

He glanced up at his father and immediately back to the ground.

“I guess I’m not worth your father’s anger,” she said, getting angry at Mr. Northwest. “What’s he going to do, cut you off from your riches? Make you actually clean for once?” She realized a potential answer that wasn’t funny at all and got quiet. “Hurt you?”

Gideon flinched, and Mabel knew she was right. She looked at Mr. Northwest in shocked anger. “He’s your son!” she yelled.

Mr. Northwest looked around nervously, but there weren’t any guests in the hall currently. “Yes, and it’s a father’s responsibility to teach his son respect.”

Another man came into the hall from the party room. He looked like a butler. Mabel panicked. “N-no! I won’t go!”

“You will,” Mr. Northwest said. He turned to the butler. “Please escort this young lady home. She’s in the Mystery Museum, I presume.” He said it like it was an unpleasant insect he couldn’t wait to squish.

“Gideon? Gideon! Tell him I want to stay!”

“Just. . . just go,” Gideon whispered, still not looking at her. “It’s not worth it.”

Mabel put Gideon between her and the butler. “No! I’m staying!”

“Mabel.” Gideon turned around and grabbed her arms tightly. “Please go,” he pleaded. “I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

She glanced at Mr. Northwest in fear. “I can’t let him hurt you!” she cried.

“It’s fine.” Gideon tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it just looked pained. “I’m used to it.”

The butler stepped up to them and cleared his throat, and Gideon let go.

Mabel frantically searched for a way to get out of this situation, but she could only think of one, and it might not even work.

She stepped towards the butler and glared up at Mr. Northwest. “You,” she declared, “are the worst father _ever_.”

As she and the butler started to walk away, she could’ve sworn she could see Gideon smile.

The butler took her away from the party room, probably so none of the guests would see her — he was probably going to take her out a side door. This was good: it gave Mabel the advantage of losing him in the maze of hallways.

Mabel waited until Gideon and his father were out of sight and then took off, ignoring the shouts of protest from the butler and zooming down the halls as fast as she could go. The butler ran after her, but Mabel had the advantage of youth. She wasn’t fast compared to other kids her age, but she was fast compared to adults — especially larger ones like this butler.

She prayed she would remember the way to the graveyard and plunged into the maze.

She was lost for a while until she saw a familiar statue that she had thought looked weird when she’d first seen it. That got her on track, and she made decisions on where to go next at lightning-fast speeds, praying she wouldn’t lose the trail. The butler was pretty far, but if she stopped she’d be caught for sure.

Just as she was running out of breath, she found the tapestry that guarded the graveyard. _Thank goodness_. She made sure in her periphery that the butler wasn’t in a position to see her and ducked through the tapestry.

The change from light to darkness was immediate. She didn’t have Gideon’s amulet this time, and it was pitch black.

She waited for a few minutes to give the butler some time to get far away before taking off her backpack and pulling out some candles, a smudging stick, and a pack of matches. She lit the candle and the smudging stick, waiting until it started smoking and leaning it against the candle. Then she turned towards the gravestone ruins and once again started to wait.

This wait took a lot longer, and Mabel stared at the candle and smudging stick, wondering if she did something wrong.

Then it hit her.

“Oh!” she said out loud. “I’m an idiot.” Smudging wasn’t for _summoning_ ghosts, it was for _banishing_ them. She grabbed the smudging stick and put it out as fast as she could. She looked at the floor with the candlelight and realized that chalk wouldn’t show up on dirt. And the dirt was too caked to draw anything in it with her finger.

So Mabel did the next best thing. She took her candle to the middle of the room and started forming a circle out of gravestone pieces.

She was a little worried about messing with their resting place, but it was already destroyed anyway. They wouldn’t mind, right?

She just had to hold to that hope.

Once the circle was complete, Mabel started placing candles from her backpack in the right spots. Then she lit them and waited.

After a while, a ghost showed up. Mabel wasn’t able to see it directly, but she caught glimpses of it in the shadows cast by the candles. “H-hello,” she said. “M-my name is Mabel, and I want to help you move on to the next life. But you guys said earlier that fulfilling your demands was the only way. Could you tell me what those demands are?”

“I could,” the ghost said. Its voice was quiet and piercing, like an earbud with the volume on low. “How do I know you’re trustworthy?”

Mabel frowned. She didn’t know how to prove it. “Um. . . I’ve been solving mysteries and interacting with the supernatural around here all winter. I don’t know if that helps, though.”

The ghost swelled to a larger size. “Supernatural. . . do you by any chance know of Bill Cipher?”

Mabel’s entire body started to tremble. She had not been expecting to hear that name. “Yes,” she said, her voice small. “I’ve been possessed by him.”

“You have?” the ghost said, sounding surprised. “Well, I’m very sorry.”

“Thanks,” Mabel said with a glance at the floor.

“Well,” the ghost said, “if you were possessed, you must be high in the ranks of his enemies.”

“I — I don’t feel like I am,” Mabel said. “But my family and I are trying to do something important and I think he’s trying to stop us.”

“He very well could be,” the ghost said. “Well, you are trustworthy in my eyes. I will tell you about our demands.”

Mabel was confused by what seemed like a sudden change in topics. “Do. . . do they have anything to do with Bill?”

The ghost nodded gravely. “They have everything to do with Bill.”

Mabel was quiet for a moment as this knowledge washed over her. “Gideon was lying, then. He told me you want the Northwests to move your gravestones to a better spot.” She’d known there was something fishy about the fib. He hadn’t even known about the graveyard until today, so how could the ghosts have asked them to move it?

The ghost laughed. It didn’t sound like it was from humor, though. “No, that is not even close to what our demands are.” It lowered its voice a little. “Have you ever heard of the Order of the Crescent Eye?”

Mabel frowned, thinking it over. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

The ghost’s voice turned grave. “Then you are lucky. The Order of the Crescent Eye is a cult. Its members worship Bill and wipe the memories of the townspeople to keep the knowledge about the supernatural under wraps.”

Mabel stood stock still as the information hit her. Her brain could not compute it immediately. She was too shocked. “B-but — I know about the supernatural!”

“That is probably because of the Cipher Wheel.”

Mabel was getting more confused by the second. “The Cipher Wheel?”

“Yes — don’t you know about it?”

“N-no.”

The ghost’s level of surprise wasn’t as high as Mabel’s level of confusion, but it was a worthy contender. “Your entire family is on it. I thought you knew.”

“But what is it?” Mabel asked, frustrated.

“It’s a prison,” the ghost said. “We fought a war against Bill when we were alive — a very long time ago. We managed to win, and we had to contain him. So we came up with a way to trap him here and cut him off from his home and followers. Ten people, each represented by a symbol, can work together to stop him again if need be. And that pine tree, the one on that shirt you’re always wearing, is you.”

Mabel thought that finding out about the Order was shocking, but it was nothing compared to this. She could not believe that she was part of a prophecy — one written before she was even born!

She was silent for a long, long time.

“A-and Ford and Dipper are on it too?” she asked suddenly.

“Yes,” the ghost said. “That’s probably why you’ve been kept safe from the Order.”

Right. The Order. Mabel had momentarily forgotten. “B-but what does the Order have to do with Gideon?”

The ghost was quiet for a moment. “Gideon is a member of the Order, I’m afraid,” it said.

Mabel’s legs felt weak, and she had to fight to stay on her feet. She felt betrayed — completely and _utterly_ betrayed.

“No,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it could easily be mistaken for a gust of wind.

“He’s in charge of wiping memories with his amulet,” the ghost said, sounding sympathetic to Mabel’s shock. “He doesn’t worship Bill himself — he just got the job when he got the amulet. Still, if he were to stop helping the Order, it would be badly hurt. And that was our demand: that Gideon and his father cut ties with the Order completely.”

Mabel felt a little better upon finding out that Gideon didn’t worship Bill — but only a little. “And they refused?”

“Yes,” the ghost said.

“Wh-what can I do?” Mabel asked, feeling like there was nothing she could do to help.

“Well,” the ghost said, “the amulet is a Northwest heirloom, and it’s what got the family involved with the Order in the first place. If Gideon didn’t have the amulet, he wouldn’t be able to wipe memories anymore.”

Something hit Mabel. “Wait,” she said, “why does Gideon have the amulet and not his father!?”

“Unfortunately, the amulet doesn’t work for adults. When Gideon became old enough to use it, it went to him.”

“Oh.”

The ghost’s earlier words hadn’t really had an effect on Mabel, but now they did. “Wait. . . does that mean. . .”

The ghost let her think.

When Mabel spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Does that mean I have to destroy Gideon’s amulet?”

When the ghost answered, its voice was grave. “I’m afraid so.”

“But — but I just forgave him from stealing from me a while ago. I can’t steal from him!”

The ghost took a few seconds to respond. “Which one is more important: not hurting Gideon or fighting against Bill?”

Mabel went quiet. The thing was, she really didn’t know which one to pick.

“I-I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “But I guess I’ll try.”

“Good,” the ghost said. “If you succeed, we ghosts will be freed. It means a lot to us that we move on.”

“I want you to move on too,” Mabel said. She sighed and started fiddling nervously with a strand of hair, worried about her task. “Well, I guess that’s it. Um — thanks.”

The ghost nodded. “You’re quite welcome. Good luck.”

Then it disappeared with a burst of wind, blowing out the candles and leaving Mabel alone in the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

Mabel wandered the halls of the Northwest Manor at a quick pace, her task weighing on her heavily. She didn’t dare go back to the party room, or go anywhere near it, lest she run into Gideon’s father again. But Gideon was probably with his father. So she was at an impasse.

She didn’t really know where she was going, but she skidded to a halt when she saw a faint blue glow coming from a room up ahead. She moved closer, getting her hopes up. _Please let him be in there. Or let him_ not _be in there, so I don’t have to steal his amulet._

By the time she slipped into the room and saw him, she was very torn on whether or not she wanted him to be there. But he was.

He sat in the center of the room, staring at the wall. The only light in the room came from his amulet. The mood of the room was hushed and anxious, but Gideon sat as still as a statue, his expression full of worry and sadness. Mabel was seized by a desire to leave him alone, or at least refrain from getting his attention.

She stepped softly across the floor, trying to be as silent as possible. She waited until she was a few feet away before calling his name softly. “Gideon?”

He looked up at her, startled. “Mabel? Where’s the butler?”

She gave him a half smile. “I gave him the slip. May I join you?”

“Sure.”

Mabel sat down next to Gideon, her feelings about him conflicted. On the one hand, he had kept an entire cult secret from her, one that followed her enemy. On the other, she just kept thinking of the time they had spent together earlier in the graveyard. And the hug. She might have been embarrassed, but it felt good while it was happening.

Gideon lifted his eyes back up to the wall, and Mabel followed his gaze. Her stomach flipped over as she realized that it wasn’t the wall at all — it was a portrait of Gideon’s father. A metal plaque that read _Gaston Northwest_ shone underneath it. His face was devoid of a smile, and he looked at the camera with fierce, hard eyes. His skin was smooth, but Mabel still felt like he was glaring out at her.

“Oh,” Mabel said softly.  She furrowed her brow in confusion. “How did you get away?”

Gideon laughed bitterly. “Oh,” he said, “Father wouldn’t dare punish me while we have guests over. He’ll wait until they’re gone.” He sighed. “I’m supposed to be in the party room mingling, but I came here. It’ll probably just make it worse for me later, but I needed to get away and be alone.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said in understanding. They fell into a silence that Mabel found extremely awkward, but she didn’t know how to tell him about what she’d learned.

“Gideon,” she said after a few minutes, “I summoned one of the ghosts and talked to it.”

Gideon’s eyes widened, and he immediately turned to look at her. “What — what did it say?” he asked, sounding nervous.

Mabel’s eyes drifted to the floor. “Um. . . it told me — it told me about the Order.”

Gideon looked like he could hardly breathe. “Mabel — I’m not — we can’t — I don’t have a choice.”

She found herself fighting back tears. “Really? Because your father makes you?”

“I —  yes, he does, but — I don’t worship Bill, I swear!”

“You’d better not!” Mabel choked up when she said it, and her voice betrayed her emotions. “You have _no idea_ what he’s put me through! I still have nightmares!”

“So do I,” Gideon said, his voice soft and clear.

“Then — then why do you help?!”

“Because I have to, okay?” Gideon snapped. “Because there are more people than just my father who will be mad if I tried to get out of it. When I said I don’t have a choice, I meant it.”

“Well, this is the perfect excuse to get out of it,” Mabel said, her voice wet and pleading. “Tell them a pack of ghosts haunted your family until you gave in and distanced yourself. You _have_ to get out, Gideon. I don’t care who would be angry, you _can’t_ help that — that demon anymore. B-Bill is the absolute _worst_ , and he causes pain everywhere he goes. A-and — ”

She had to stop, because she was trembling too badly. Multiple tears had slipped down her cheeks as she talked.

“Mabel. . . what — what happened between you and Bill?” Gideon asked it hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Mabel was too upset to answer.

She waited until she was stable enough to speak and took Gideon’s hand in hers. “You can get away from the Order,” she said, her voice shaky. “I have an idea. Just — just smash your amulet and they’ll leave you alone.”

“No,” Gideon said immediately. “That’s not an option. This amulet has been in my family for generations, and I absolutely _cannot_ lose it.”

“Why not? Because of what happened to Pacifica?”

 Mabel knew it was a low blow, but it was the only reason she could think of.

“No,” Gideon said softly, sounding hurt. “Because my father will know, and he’ll make me pay.”

“Look,” Mabel said, “I know your father gives you good reason to fear him, but can’t you see that this is more important than that? Bill is _so_ dangerous! If you give him anything, he’ll take ten times more!”

“Don’t you think I can handle — ” Gideon began, but he was cut off.

By distant screaming.

Mabel felt the blood drain from her face. “The party guests,” she said quietly.

She leapt to her feet. “Come on!” she said to Gideon. “Come tell the ghosts that you’ll leave the Order.”

“Mabel, wait — ”

But she was already gone.

~~~~~

Gideon watched Mabel go and got to his feet. “Mabel,” he said to himself, frustrated, “don’t you know that the members of the Order _are_ the party guests?”

Apparently she didn’t, because she seemed just as worried about them. He ran after her, growling under his breath.

When he got to the party room, the first thing he noticed was his parents, standing alone in the center of the room near Mabel. The guests had all disappeared, but a quick look around told Gideon that their reflections were in the mirrors. Panic seared through his chest, and he looked around the mirrors for Pacifica. He couldn’t find her, which meant she might’ve escaped — or she was behind a pillar. Which meant she probably couldn’t see Mabel either. Gideon couldn’t hear her screams, and he took that as a good sign. Some of the guests were screaming, though, and others were trying to plead for help, though it just came out backwards.

“Gideon!” Geneva called. Her voice was full of fear, and Gideon wanted to hurt whoever was making her feel afraid. “Thank goodness. Help us, please!”

Gaston, though, just looked angry. _Very_ angry. Gideon wondered to how much punishment that level of anger translated.

He tore his eyes away from Gaston and to Mabel and the ghosts, which were visible and transparent. Mabel gave him a pleading look, and he reached up for his amulet with a shaky hand.

“Young Northwest,” the nearest ghost said, “you know you can stop this if you break your amulet.”

“What?” Gaston spluttered. “Destroy the amulet? No! Gideon, don’t you dare put one scratch in that!”

The ghosts looked annoyed. The one nearest to Gideon’s parents lifted its hand and zapped them with a bolt of ghostly white energy.

Gaston and his wife disappeared.

“No!” Gideon shouted. “Where’d you send them?”

The ghost that zapped them simply pointed to a mirror on the wall to their right.

Gideon turned and immediately regretted it. They were in a mirror a little bit higher than Gideon was tall. Gaston was glaring out of it in fury. He looked just like his portrait, and Gideon’s knees nearly buckled in fear.

“Destroy your amulet, Gideon,” one of the ghosts commanded. But Gideon didn’t look at it. He was staring up at his father.

“Gideon,” a voice whispered. Mabel’s voice. Gideon latched onto her voice and drew on it for strength, tearing his eyes away from Gaston and turning to her. “Gideon, you can do it.”

“Yes,” the ghost said, “she’s right. You can. It’s for the greater good.”

Gideon gripped his amulet tightly, about to take it off.

“Yes, yes,” the ghost urged him. “Take it off. Smash it on the ground.”

Gideon’s hand trembled.

A loud, piercing noise ripped through the air. Its effect on Gideon was immediate: he cried out, let go of the amulet, and knelt on the floor, covering his ears with both hands. No — _no_ — _please don’t hurt me!_ Phantom pains coursed through his body — replicas of the pain his father had put him through while conditioning him to the sound of the whistle.

The whistle died, making a strange noise at the end because the mirror made its sound backwards. That didn’t matter, though. Gideon still heard it loud and clear.

Silence fell hesitantly over the room, but Gideon’s ears were still ringing with the sound of the whistle.

“G-Gideon?” Mabel asked. She’d run over during the whistling and knelt by him. “What was that?”

Gideon didn’t answer. He instead stood up shakily and planted his feet firmly on the ground. His hand went to his amulet and gripped it tightly. Mabel gasped softly next to him.

The amulet lit up and sent out a blast wave of teal light that pushed the ghosts away.

“I won’t do it!” Gideon shouted. “Free my people and be gone!”

The ghosts started yelling at him in outrage. Mabel looked betrayed. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. Gideon looked away from her in shame as the ghosts started to move towards him. They were murderous, but he didn’t care anymore if they zapped him into a mirror, as long as he was safe from his father.

Mabel stood up and threw herself in front of Gideon. “Stop!” she yelled at the ghosts, her voice shaking.

Gideon looked up at her in shock. He couldn’t understand why she was doing this. Hadn’t he just betrayed her?

“Please,” Mabel said. She sounded like she was about to cry. The ghosts had all stopped and looked down at her in annoyance. “I-I know he didn’t do what you wanted — what _we_ wanted — b-but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be forced into a mirror!”

“This was our one chance to be set free,” one of the ghosts said, “and he ruined it.”

“I-I know,” Mabel said. “A-and you must be terrified. You can’t move on, and you can’t touch things o-or talk to people. I — I know how that feels.”

The ghosts looked confused. Gideon knew he was.

“I. . . I’ve been a ghost. And it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. So I’m sorry, I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”

She glanced at Gideon over her shoulder. “You’re afraid of Bill, and I understand that. Bill is — I know what he’s like. I’ve. . .”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been possessed by him.”

Gideon gasped.

“I was in his way, I guess. It was. . . it was terrifying. And it taught me firsthand how awful he is. And — and it made me want to fight against him. To stop him from ever hurting me or my family again.”

She stood tall and faced the ghosts. “I don’t know how to set you free,” she said, “but I can promise to fight against Bill with everything I have. And — and Gideon can use his amulet in the fight, too. I’ll stop Bill, and I’ll stop the Order.” She took a careful step forward. “I know how badly you want to move on. And once you’re gone, you’ll leave behind a group of people who know how dangerous Bill is and are willing to fight him. If. . . if my family and Gideon and I promise to lead the fight against Bill, will that help you find peace? Will that set you free?”

There was a long silence as the ghosts considered what Mabel had said.

One of the ghosts drifted towards her. There were tears in its eyes. “Thank you,” it said. “We did all we could in the fight against Bill when we were alive, but we can’t help any more. Bill has been growing in power, and I worried that he would meet no resistance. But your promise gives me peace.”

“I’ll try as hard as I can,” Mabel said. “I promise.”

The ghost reached out towards Mabel, and she put her hand out. Their fingers couldn’t touch, but Gideon thought for a second that they were grasping hands.

The ghosts started to glow with white light. One by one, they turned into small balls of light and drifted up towards the ceiling and out of sight.

Gideon and Mabel watched in awe. It was simply beautiful.

A feeling of peace descended on the ballroom. Even the people in the mirrors were quiet. Gideon couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this so strongly.

But the feeling was shattered by people reappearing, becoming free from the mirrors. Gideon’s stomach dropped, and he grabbed Mabel’s arm.

By promising to defeat the Order, she had just rescued the entire Order.

“What?” Mabel asked as more and more people were freed. Gideon tried to pull her away, get her out of there before it was too late. But she just looked at him in confusion and didn’t move.

The party guests were talking and laughing in relief. Gideon scanned the room for Pacifica, his nervousness increasing.

He didn’t have to look for long, though, because just moments later there was an ear-splitting scream.

Pacifica was standing across the room, screaming at the top of her lungs. She sounded more afraid than angry, as if Mabel was going to hurt her. Gideon knew Mabel would never do that, but Pacifica was too unstable to understand that.

Everyone went quiet as Mabel and Pacifica locked eyes.

Mabel’s eyes were filled with shock, Pacifica’s with hatred. Then Pacifica spoke. Her voice was quiet, but it filled the entire room. Gideon’s stomach clenched as he heard the two simple words.

“Get her.”


	10. Chapter 10

Pacifica felt a thrill of triumph as the Order members scattered to the exits of the party room, blocking them so Mabel couldn’t escape. Mabel looked too stunned to move, and Gideon put himself between her and Pacifica. Foolish boy. Didn’t he know that Mabel was just conning him? That his amulet would be futile against this many people?

Four of her lackeys moved to grab hold of Mabel and Gideon, and they snatched Gideon’s amulet off his neck without Pacifica even having to instruct them to do so. Gideon struggled against his captors and tried to reach for the amulet, but they were too strong. Mabel, on the other hand, went limp in the grip of hers. Good. She knew she was beaten.

Gideon’s parents started to protest the handling of their son, but Order members subdued them, too. Pacifica had no quarrels with them, or with Gideon. They just had to be kept out of the way while she dealt with Mabel.

Pacifica watched Gideon struggle as she started towards her prey. He might prove problematic, since he was under Mabel’s spell. He thought he cared for her, but it was a delusion. Why was Pacifica the only one who could see that?

Well, Mabel would be dead by the time Gideon tried to rescue her. He’d be sad at first, but only until Mabel’s brainwashing wore off him. Then he’d see sense and realize this was all for the best.

The prospect of finally ridding herself of Mabel’s haunting put a spring in Pacifica’s step as she approached the demon masquerading as a girl. “Well,” she said, trying not to let her excitement ruin her imposing voice, “I never expected to come across such good fortune. Did you invite her here, Gideon? Are you finally seeing sense?”

Gideon gave a strong surge against his captors, but it didn’t work. “I invited her to help me with the ghosts, but she was supposed to be gone hours ago. I was a fool for bringing her here on the day of the gala, even if it was meant to be over far earlier.”

“I agree that you’re a fool,” Pacifica said, “although not for that reason. And _you_.” She turned to Mabel. “You may have had great success in the past, but you couldn’t avoid me forever.”

She moved in closer so that she and Mabel were almost touching. “Your death will be sweet indeed.”

“Pacifica,” Gideon said, his voice placating, “she’s not evil. Far from it. I spent hours trapped in a room with her today, and I’ve seen her when she’s vulnerable, and there has been no proof whatsoever of your claim.”

“Well,” Pacifica replied, “she’s vulnerable now, and I’ll prove it to you. There’s plenty of proof, you just haven’t been able to find it.”

“P-please,” Mabel said, her voice trembling. With rage, probably. “I-I know we’ve been at odds before, but I’m not secretly evil, or whatever you think. I don’t know why you couldn’t read me or Dipper, and we were just trying to defend ourselves from you.”

Pacifica gave her an endearing smile. “You don’t have to keep up your façade here, Mabel. Everyone here knows who you really are. Although I suppose you’re trying to keep Gideon under your spell. Persistent to the last, aren’t you?”

“No!” Mabel said. “Do you really think I’d be able to keep up pretenses with _everyone_ all the time?”

“Just in public,” Pacifica said, malice coming into her voice. “I don’t even want to think about what you do to Dipper in private.”

“I don’t do _anything!_ ”

“You’d say that. Well, maybe once we get back to Order headquarters, you’ll drop the act.”

Pacifica left Mabel and went over to where Gaston and Geneva were struggling against the Order members that held them. “My apologies for the interruption,” she said, “but I’m afraid we must end the party early this year. Mabel cannot be trusted in your home anyway. I’m doing you a favor.”

“I don’t see why we have to be a part of this,” Gaston said tightly.

“I’m afraid your son has been deeply deceived. He would try to rescue Mabel if he had the chance. Can we give you his amulet and trust you not to return it to him until we have left? That would be wonderful.”

Gaston considered this for a moment. “Fine.”

“Wonderful.” Pacifica turned to address the entire room. “I’m sorry to spoil your fun, but we must go. We must get Mabel back to headquarters and secure her there.”

None of the Order members complained. She could get used to having so many people under her command.

She went back to Mabel and Gideon. “Thank you, Gideon, for bringing her here at the perfect time. I hope you realize that this is for the best.”

Gideon glared at her.

Pacifica _tsk_ ed at him in pity. “Well, let’s go, then.”

The Order gathered around Mabel, with no less than four members ready to restrain her. The group headed for the front door.

Pacifica reveled in the triumph this evening had brought. And as she left the Northwest mansion, even the sight of Mabel’s torturous spirit lingering in the corner couldn’t bring her down.

_I’ll be rid of you soon._

~~~~~

The Order members holding Gideon were the last to leave. They handed Gaston the amulet and then walked off without a word.

Gideon wanted to curl up on the ground and just lay there forever. He couldn’t believe he had let this happen. He had been the one to invite Mabel here! Shouldn’t he have protected her?

He scowled with a grim determination. He may have failed in protecting her, but he would rescue her.

Gaston held up the amulet. “Well,” he said, “I think I’ll keep this until you’ve paid for your misdeeds.”

Gideon’s heart sped up. He’d forgotten about his punishment. But he had to go rescue Mabel. Who knew how much time he’d have before Pacifica would kill her?

His heart filled with conflicting emotion. Fear of his father. Fear of Pacifica’s newfound power.

Love for Mabel.

He had a choice. He could either submit to his father and leave Mabel to be tortured, or he could take back his amulet and go after his friend.

His mind went over both options in an instant, and he knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Gaston. And he reached up and snatched the amulet out of his father’s grip.

Gaston gasped in furious shock. Gideon tried to ignore it, ignore what he would face as penance, and ran for the door.

“Gideon! Stop right there!” Gaston ordered. “Where’s my — _Gideon!_ ”

Gideon braced himself for the whistle, hoping that his love for Mabel would somehow counteract the effect of its shrill shriek.

He was out the door and halfway down the front steps by the time the whistle sounded. Gideon paused as memories of the pain ripped through his body, but he managed to stay on his feet. No. . . he had to _keep going_. . .

He closed his eyes and imagined Mabel’s face.

The memory of her gave him strength. He imagined her fear, her look of hope that he might come to her rescue. Who was he if he abandoned her because of a dumb whistle?

He felt as if he was fighting against a physical resistance, but he managed to get his feet moving again. He tore down the steps.

The whistle wailed in his ears, but it got fainter and fainter the farther away he got. _I can do this,_ was his mantra. _For Mabel. I can do this. For Mabel._

The whistle stopped in order for Gaston to bellow at him at the top of his lungs. “ _Gideon Northwest! Get back here immediately or you will regret it!”_

Gideon used his amulet to jump over the gate. Maybe he would, but not nearly as much as he’d regret abandoning Mabel.

He couldn’t see the Order. He would make his way to headquarters eventually, but right now he just had to get away from whatever servants his father would send after him.

So he turned towards the only other place he could think of and started for the Mystery Museum.

He could get Dipper, maybe even Ford. Ford. . . Mabel had the Journal he'd given to her. She'd stored it in her backpack, and he doubted Pacifica would let her keep it. He had to hope Mabel would keep it safe.

But despite his usual pessimism, he found he believed in her.

He ran for the Museum, not trusting his amulet to give him more speed. He’d get the reinforcements he needed and then go after Mabel as soon as he possibly could.

He gritted his teeth as he remembered his dream from last night, remembered the knife coming down and the blood splattering across the room. He _couldn’t_ let that happen to Mabel. He _wouldn’t_.

_Hang in there, Mabel. I’m coming to save you._

_I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! So, I mainly post this fanfiction on Wattpad (if you would like to interact with me, I have the same username as Ao3 and post a lot of out-of-story GR content, including one-shots and character info), and this is the first time the Ao3 edition has caught up entirely with the Wattpad version. This now means that you are on the same updating schedule as Wattpad: two months of hiatus while I write the next episode, and then a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday until the episode is finished. I could also wait until the entire episode is out on Wattpad and then post it all in one wave, like I have been doing with the previous episodes. Let me know what you would prefer :) 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed the story so far! Thanks for reading!


End file.
